A ladybug on a peony goes
Where it wants
In this great big world of ours.
Sure, it could be crushed by a human
Or, eaten by a crow
But maybe not,
That’s what it hopes for
In this great big world of ours.
And then a man bursts into my room and says everything I write
Is garbage for the masses
In this great big world of ours.
67Steffen.com 
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