I am grass. I am dandelions. Explanation: grass grows, and it is punished for it. People hate it and cut it, want to form it into a perfect little patch. And when dandelions grow, people rip them out, calling them weeds over flowers.And I am grass because I was starting to get better. I was starting to grow, and then I got mowed. There is nothing to me now. I am perfect and quiet. I am nice to look at, but I am empty.
