And here I am!

Did I want to be a wildflower?

Growing shyly among your roses?

Don’t pull me, I told the gardener,

I know as pretty I shall not be,

I have my thorn, I’m like a weed,

But yellow flowers one day I’ll give

And then another I will remind you

Of what is pain, what it to bleed,

When your bare feet, they step on me,

All that I wanted, it was to live.

(Sometimes other people’s work inspire something. Especially on bright nights full of insomnia and light)

Thank you for sharing.

Pp