Dandelion

Sometimes I feel like a dandelion once bright with beautiful naive petals I later traded for dreams but what the world doesn't tell you about dreams is they are never yours to keep people come by whispering away your seeds a few pluck them out themselves and you'll lose half of your deal before the cold wintery nights sweep by and steal the rest away with unforgiving winds and you'll be left with no petals no seeds just a stem, a reminder of the potential you once had to be beauty or to be great and in the end your left with nothing except maybe just a whisp of disgrace.