I once made a fleet of paper flowers,
but they were taken away,
by the colorless wind.
They say opinions are like assholes,
and everyone has own of those.
Why do they try to deride others’ opinions?
The fleet traveled far
across many lands,
where it met flowers
of cloth, silver and ink.
Sometimes I value others’ opinions.
But then those same people turn around
and don’t value mine.
Should I still value theirs?
Flower’s stems’ function as their tongues.
Some of the flowers my paper creations met,
had tongues of silver, while others had tongues of fire.
Even though I tell myself
not to care about other’s opinions,
once I am wooed by the good,
I open myself up to the bad.
That is life I suppose.
While some flowers’ journeys
reach completion when they settle papery roots into the ground,
others continue riding with
the weariless wild wind.