Made to Grow Free

Bitter like a buttercup
With buoyanc, bounce and brains
Choice that wills the day to come.
Inhales my thoughtless aims

Will you bring stop; bring hindrance?
Will you call my mind to halt; to indifference?


No always, always no.
I chose to choose not
But it is not my place.

Wither like a rotten stump
With solemn, grave intent
That child’s bliss and forgetfulness
That freedom of no demands.

Ah, mess of floating dandy-seeds
Their lion’s roar forgot on breeze;
Gone with their yellow manes.
That’s me alright, and not alright at all.


That’s me in grownup’s clothes
With heels too high and
Purse too big and wallet full of moss
And the daydreams from yesterday.

Bitter like a lime desert
With tired, timed goodbyes
Choice that makes my will exist
Grows me free of supporting ties.













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