poetry

A weed pretending to be human

I feel more at home among the trees,

As though my body yearns for grass against my skin

And leaves around my soul.

Like a weed pretending to be human-

Growing in the wrong place-

Prickly, green and funny shaped

And looking for something to uproot me.

So I’ll keep pressing flowers between these pages,

Hoping the outlines become veins that I can breathe through;

So petals fall around my feet like bombs,

To move the earth I didn’t want to be planted in.

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