Flowers

My heart is my own,
my way is my truth,
I won't pretend to know yours,
please don't suppose, too.

I am a root of the oak tree
just as you, just as all,
but it seems my ways of nurture
deviate from the norm.

Don't take me wrong
I know we share this humanity
but my path is as crucial
as our journey in mutuality.

I will do things my way
without your permission.
I will do things my way
even without disposition.

I will put the boundaries
where I need them to be,
and I will give you flowers
of my own garden.

So don't get any big ideas
of your favorite outcome.
I won't give you any bud
of what you want me to become.

I love my fair blossoms
their color is unique,
not artificial nor dyed,
I grew them with my tears.

If I ask you for something
is to be gentle with them,
they are the fruit of my labor
my heart in your care.

Do with them as you please
if they end up in your hands,
but here is a heads-up
for me to come clean:

Shall you trample upon them
you won't touch them again.