Dead Blossom

A creature views the world
From the bottom of a hole
It wants to float with self-control
Not too high for the fall to be a hard blow
Not too low for the endeavour to be a no-go

It plays this game which has no faults
So perfect that even the fun seems false

Encouraging itself with a note of warning it declares
To feel the warmth the pain must be accepted
Before growing the depth must be inspected

Maybe it was in the realm of memory
Maybe it’s name appeared in a document
It was past the stage of reverie
Now it didn’t care for an argument

It you insist I must tell you the secret
To say the creature is alright is an optimistic assessment
Not only did it view the world from the bottom
It had the unblinking eyes of a dead blossom