Publicado jueves, 29 de enero de 2026
1m
INFP
Tauro
To Be Picked I always thought I had to be picked, like a rose picked early, so as not to decay in transit. But if daisy chains and buttercups echo childhood wonder, it’s because the sounds of playing can still be separated from the chaos of the world. With dandelions blown into the air for wishes still becoming. How are these not the flowers everyone dreams of? Oh, to be there. To be wanted. To be spotted and run toward, fought for even, just to make another wish, once more. Poppies know something too. They are beautiful on their own, with delicate little petals that fall the moment you pluck them, almost like a warning: don’t do that again. They withstand strong winds when sown firmly in the ground, but in your hand they become defenseless. It begs to question, That the plant that no one picks is the best one of all. But I'll never know if that plant wants to be found
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