Through The Eyes of a Blossom

Their footsteps are all different, but it's all the same. They trample things. Humans are so strange to me.

I watch them from my spot in the park, swaying in a small breeze. I see them, big and small, short and tall. Can they really all be the same inside, like us? No. . That couldn't be.

A man and his dog, running past. A women and her child, playing with a ball. Two young lovers sitting on a blanket. Don't they realize they hurt us? Trampling all over my friends. The grass, the flowers, even the weeds.

And yet, I envy them. I wish to feel the fur of the dog under my hands. I want to laugh along as the ball bounces to me. I long to feel her skin, kiss her lips. But all I can do is watch.

Wait, what is this..?! No, get away, get away! "Oh, that's such a pretty flower!"
"Here, I'll get it for you!" No!

No.. I've been plucked. I can already feel myself dying. But, I can feel her fingers on me, her breath as she sniffs me. It feels so warm, maybe this is what they feel like. .?

She takes me to her home, by then I'm barely holding on. Ouch.. What are you doing?! She's pressing me into soft pages. I can see others like me, dead and dried.. Is this what happens? They take us, watch us die?

I wish I had been trampled. .