Wildflower Wallflower
Walls protect you as you move,
I’ve built them too high to scour.
Leading with survival instinct
demands the thickest of skin.
Flattened ears always on guard
lowering my gaze won’t happen.
Open range feels like freedom
without risking vulnerable parts.
Envious of those built to shield
rare are those called sheepdogs.
Wild doesn’t mean being obvious,
a quiet strategy is what it takes.
Labeled by image not by action
lacerates straight through reality.
Feral flourishes inside of silence
leaving chaos to bloom and grow.
On the run when I’m standing still,
what else did you expect from me?
Energy must eventually be expelled,
rather than remain inside to fester.
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