They built me as a bomb and told me to destroy.
But I would not be their weapon.
I took my scissors and glue and stuck flowers to myself, scraps of torn-paper poetry to my lips.
I wrapped my scars with the sunlight melting the ice caked to my soul.
“Who taught you to love so grandly?” my friends wonder,
And I feel the daisies wrapped in my hands clutched tight. “No one but myself.”