Dandelions

I know I began to grow where you never desired me. I wish you would understand how difficult it was, though. I crawled out from nothing and found life in the most undetectable crack of pavement. I nestled in and prayed to be something, and as the rain found me, I understood that I could be something. I began to grow. A small yellow thing, I was. When my color began to show was most likely when you had spotted me. You smiled that first time. I felt so much joy. Oh, to be seen and liked. Loved, maybe? For the first time, I had felt a reason to grow not just for survival, but for affection. However, as more of my flowers began to bloom my roots began to crack your pavement. I didn’t mean it, truly, but I had begun to make the ground around you unstable. I had misunderstood your praise. I tried to move myself away from my burrow, but the roots I had set to become a spectacle for you to admire had trapped me in the deep earth. It was only when you flushed my roots with boiling water and vinegar, I realized I had only grown so far to please you and had stopped considering my own survival.