I started my garden with a little patch of marigolds I got from the market down the street. They were pretty, I guess. I really only chose them because there was the easiest option, since they were already grown and all I had to do was stick them in the dirt and look at them. I walked passed them most days without a second glance.
She was ugly. A snake of a girl- beady blue eyes and blood-red toenails.
The small snigger creeping up through her perfectly kept teeth as she spat at the garbage of the street: the creatures she couldn’t see through her beady blue eyes.
Her mama would dress her up in yellow ribbons and green bows. “Why honey, you make a sweet little dandelion,”.
She liked to be a dandelion, but secretly she dreamed of being a marigold: Lips parted to the sun, seeds planted in the rich soil of her own blackness. She wanted to be a marigold. But she was just a dandelion, stepping on petals and weeding out whatever she longed to be.
Inspired by Toni Morrison's eye-opening novel (pun not intended)