My eyes are wildflowers

Dirt roads. Weeds and

Willow trees

Main stream is cement.

Dead.

My dreams must live and breathe

I won’t be

anything but myself.

Otherness.

Wandering to the edge

Society will change

and say I am unkempt,

malnourished,

feeling too much.

My eyes are wildflowers

Dirt roads. Weeds and

Willow trees

I am the breeze. Alive.