What if I were meant to remain in a field of weeds. Never to be found, just there frozen in the breeze. Through time, love, and death... what if the opportunity to live isn't given. Something your heart wants desperately is farther than arms reach to appreciation. Why has my mind been unable to tell my feet to walk in sync with someone who seems so instantly perfect, until that last talk where everything seems to shatter and be left in uncertainty and hesitation. What if my roots are so bound to the ground, that I can't lift up my wings to fly above higher grounds. What if I were meant to always be, and accept that I'll never be found in the field of weeds?