I am a dandelion
I'm not the dandelions that are lighting up with a bright spiky head with the thousands in a large meadow
I am the dandelion that worked myself up through the asphalt
I am a dandelion, a dandelion that is not straight in the stem as the other dandelion, precisely because of my tough upbringing, through harsh terms
I am the dandelion being stepped on or torn away, but choose to grow up again on the same place, you must take me up with the roots to get rid of me
I am a dandelion that stand up again, hoping that someone enjoy my yellow spiky head, smiling at you
I am a dandelion with a hope that when I'm old and gray, that my seeds will be spread by the wind, that they will be strong anyway, wherever the roots will grow, that they will stand there with their bright spiky heads and smile at you.