I believe someone is trying to give me a sign,
I can't make out clearly what it's about,
or who is doing it, or why it needs to be done,
it is there, it truly is.
Thick dandelions are sticking to my shoes,
the soles are becoming a putrid yellow.
What is the point?
Just like the stains of the shoe,
my version of soul is yellow, too.
Near death, scared and weak.
Like a pathetic bug without hope,
without a care who steps over his shadow.
I don't know if anyone notices,
do I care if anyone notices?
I do if she does, but does she?
She doesn't. Maybe. Yes. Oh well,
I can't tell anymore.
For some odd reason I am lying
in a sea of dandelions, yellow as can be.
My soles, soul, clothes, hair and hands,
I believe my heart is changing with the fade.
It is becoming a grim orange.