This poem was inspired by Van Gogh's sunflowers


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sunflowers
Stand tall, don't slouch
Look this way, No, look at me
A dirty orange turns classy under the right light
But which way is the sun
It is before us
behind us
beside us
We push for attention
Look at me. I'm taller, more beautiful, stronger

The earth colors us with crisp yellows,
specs of brown and forest greens

Stained with mustard, we look alike
But there are clear boundaries
distinct lines
that make sense but aren't needed

A bloated vase holds us
the young and dying
Some never make it under the weight of youth,
others get all the attention

A certain jaggedness defines who we are,
rough to touch
but gentle upon closer look.

Our petals lightly mingle
and hold private conversations
But we only talk to our neighbor
ignoring who is on the other side
Even though we come from the same seed,
we refuse to see each other as equals.

Why?

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