Musings on Life from a Dead Girl

Flower

Wildflowers grow in cracks in cement

I have long thought of myself in this way

As a seed I was randomly dropped in no particular place

Nowhere special, just a smalltown that's not even on a map

The world bears it's weight on my shoulders just as I begin to bloom

The weather beats me down

I grow towards the sun, reaching with all my might for something, anything

The ground around me is harsh, and unfit for my tender roots

Around me bigger and stronger plants remind me that I am little more than a weed and good for just as much

They dangle their pretty petals in my face

Someone overhead drowns me in scolding water

I choke, told to be grateful I am not thirsty

I wilt under the stress

I am told to stand straight

My leaves brown

My stem struggles to rise from the stones at my feet

I push and push and push

Around me the gardener showers me in Roundup 

I am not the prettiest plant

I am not the largest

I have lines covering my green

My leaves are not perfectly round 

and my colors aren't the brightest

But my blossom is real

and despite it all I continue to grow from the concrete