Seed
I want to grow
and bloom.
But what does that mean?
People say you are like a seed.
Something that grows over time.
As I drove down a tree dotted highway
I looked at the passing trees
that didn’t move with me.
I realized they were planted.
Planted.
In the soil.
In cold, nonjudgmental earth.
Not knowing what it will bloom into
until breaking the crust
into an endless and foreign sky.
Does that mean my answers
is with having my body
buried in the hope to grow?
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