When I was 11,

I was told to branch

Out of myself,

but the twigs

grew in weird

places.

When I was 12,

I sat on a fallen petal

and broke a twig.

It hurt.

I didn't realize

how fond I had grown

of a piece I did not want.

When I was 15,

the twigs had weakend

and the petal stuck.

Out of nowhere

it was a flower bloomed.

I am 17,

sitting on a flower.

I am vibrant and rooted.

My twigs grew.

I care so much for these branches

it does not matter if you do too.