by Drew May
Whither to a weed doth grow,
beneath the concrete, life does flow.
For as we tread the sidewalks bare,
the wind is dancing in our hair,
observing us. We take no heed,
for who is watching, but the weed?
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The Weed
by Drew May
Whither to a weed doth grow,
beneath the concrete, life does flow.
For as we tread the sidewalks bare,
the wind is dancing in our hair,
observing us. We take no heed,
for who is watching, but the weed?