I am a wildflower.
I am small and fragile,
Flickering
At the mercy of the slightest breeze.
I stand in a field on the side of the road.
Bright purple,
But almost always unnoticed.
No one stops to pick me up
To see me closely.
No one.
I crave this interaction
And yet I fear it.
Because if someone picks me up,
They will eventually grow tired
And drop me.
And I'll be left broken
Dying
Again.
YOU ARE READING
Poems from the Right Brain
PoetrySome silly, some not. Some lighthearted, some littered with thought. Some passionate, some numb. Some so clever, some outright dumb. Some more cautious, some bursting with tears. Some revealing memories, some unveiling my fears. So here's my heart...
