We have grown close us two, have we not? You know me and I.. well I am you. So you like me just as much as I do, I suppose.. Unless you judge me, I would agree.. some of these things written down does seem.. less than admirable on paper..
There is so many flowers in this garden, all so beautiful, strong, biggest and best. Yet, one by one, they all seem to be plucked over time. They want to grow the tallest, bloom the brightest and sooner or later, they all do get plucked. I never wanted to be the strongest, best, brightest, prettiest. I only wanted to remain in the garden, until my leaves would wither and I would return to the dirt from where I grew. I grew from rotten mold, I grew from Beggar's Alley, I did not receive any attention from the gardeners, I received nothing and yet I grew peacefully and steadily. I saw the others get plucked, one by one, fancy flowers from far reaches, flowers from my own town. All taken from the dirt and left to wither away. No one pays attention to the weed that grows between the cracks of the streets, no one cares to remove it. A gardener will keep it down if necessary and try to root that which grows too fiercely, but they will never remove all of the weeds. I was left to grow, I grew and learned and I dreamt of being the tallest and the strongest, yet I knew that I would never be a flower. We here songs of these fantastic flowers of summers gone, yet the plucked flowers never get to hear them, and all flowers die when the winter comes. Weeds can survive under the snow, and under the road. I am just happy I am not plucked, I only ever asked for my place in the garden.
Well enough of me for this time.. I fear I am babbling meaningless nonsense now.. I will retire for the night, I am tired.
