A Plant isn't Always a Flower

By
I'm staring out a bus window
It has nothing to its name but smoke emissions
It is an industrial prison cart taking me from one hell to another
It makes a barrier between what man made and what has always been
The acrylic glass is smudged with tiny hand prints
Amid the so called smut lies two eyes and a smile
I am reminded of a place where dandelions aren't weeds
And factories do not exist





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