My feet moved forward, no control––Excitement. Fear. Adrenaline.

A forest of poppies is forbidden, yet here I was, inching my way in.

Concealed by a red cloak, I remained hidden.

Out of sight, out of mind like I’d never been real at all.

No one cared––no shouts, no screams, no searching for me.

I was unseen.

Perhaps it was what I needed.

Maybe I’m a poppy too, I thought.

Never touched, loved, picked or chosen, even if I was caught.

Would they even look for me? Worry or care?

Probably not.

So the forest of poppies is where I’ll be,

long forgotten and left to bloom where no one sees.