Imagine This

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.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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