Have you seen a flower running in the breeze? Fluttering about so stealthy. I wish I could be one fluttering free, but everyone I see hates me. The broom whimpers, the mouse whisperes. My mom makes me bake, full of hate. It scares me so much I ache. The sickness is fluttering door to door making sure to take more. The yellow of their eyes looking at the sky. The Death will be sharing their portions, how I wish I could be free from here. This is weary, gets me teary eyed. How I want to twirl, whirl again. But now, I have to help the sick. I fall asleep to the wick. I want to be free like a daisy again!