A rose is something fit for a queen, but nobody admires dandelions. It seemed their yellow dream would never reach a limit, but of course humanity would decide to the dream them underneath its footprint. Blue sky smiles arise and soon are flipped to negatives. Happiness is brushed off as something for foolish sleepers, while we take power away from our local dreamers. You pull the wool over your own eyes as you mindlessly kill all dandelions, your words like pesticide. You'll draw lines inside your mind to protect your heart from aching. Although a rose is fit for a queen, I'd much prefer a dandelion.
YOU ARE READING
A collction of metaphorical stories
ContoA small collection of short storys I have written to help me cope with daily troubles, perhaps it will help you too. Stay strong, you're worth it ♡
