I don’t want to stick out like a weed in a field of wildflowers,

surrounded by people who allowed themselves to bloom,

while I sat here comfortable in the field I’ve never left, the one that I call home,

while they sprouted up and bloomed by taking a chance to grow.

A weed that grew tall, for sure,

but never flowered;

never took the chance to try.

And while it’s a secure life,

it’s one as dull as a weed in a field of wildflowers.