Folding laundry on a night unnamed
I hum the words, you're the sunflower
Even with the song blasting,
giggling girls speak blurred words:
Annoying, bossy,
Wonder how to get her to chill
Too much work
Needy and fake.
Unknown are the intentions.
Tearducts remain dry.
Hand wavers, the shirt crumples.
I have to start over.
Fear of never truly knowing
the enemies among my peers,
sets in deep into my bloodstream
I drown them out with the same song
I’m my own sunflower
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