I live in a world
of flowers falling on
the feces that
fertilizes our lawns.

A world where
the disgusting bares
the most beautiful fruit.

Where children bloom
in the battle wreckage
of the cement and metal
that spirals
out of control.

Where the abused
take the violence
and find a better use
for their anger, and blues.

Like seed pods pulled
from a crushed rose,
these little artists grow,
and show
a different side
of our shared
human life.