If someone handed me a rose and said that “it grew from the concrete,” should I feel bad for the rose for no longer being home or honored to be symbolized with such a brave soul?

I no longer affiliate myself with the decisive minds. For my mind is in a constant search of the unknown answers. The E through Zs on scantrons that only have room for A through D. The “maybe” or “perhaps” between true and false. The compromise between what’s right and what’s wrong…

I think that’s why I never agreed with school...