I Was Picked
I am a flower.
I wonder what it would be like if I could walk.
I hear the pot flunk on the ground,
water splashing inside.
I see her reaching down, scissors in hand.
I want to stay alive.
I am a flower.
I pretend she doesn’t have a pot.
I feel something cold touching me.
I touch the cool water, and I am very thirsty.
I understand that I was picked,
but I still don’t want to be.
I say I need HELP! The forget-me-nots
hear me,
and they already forgot.
I dream that it’s a dream,
but it’s not, and I think I like it.
