weeds

Between the cracks we simple weeds do grow
The goofy, awkward kid without any friends
The kid who’s gay, disowned, and all alone
The funny looking foreigner at work
We don’t belong because of how we look
or how we talk or how we live, it seems
To them, we’ll never fit in. We are weeds.

Buttercup

When I was a child, buttercups were my absolute favorite flower. They were such a pretty, happy yellow, but, best of all, they smelled so damn good. When me and my brother would go walk our dog, Princess, around the neighborhood or walk down to the park, I’d always pick up a buttercup or two along the way and just sniff it till we reached our destination.

They grew on the edges of lawns or in the cracks of sidewalks. My mom told me they were weeds, but I didn’t understand why. They were such awesome flowers, I would’ve thought people would be planting fields of them.

But they didn’t. And I didn’t. I didn’t know much about plants or gardening back then. And even though buttercups are no longer my favorite flower, I still like them a lot. If I ever get a house with a lawn, I’d be happy to have some buttercups popping up here and there. Not sure if I’d plant some deliberately, though…