Picking Leaves That Make the Cut

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Welcome to Placebo Poet's first post!  
I thought something short and sweet would be a good start, and I'm really resonating once more with this piece, forever asking myself, "Should I stay or should I go?" 
"Should I put down roots?"
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!
If you need me...
You can find me in the street
With a grin
Picking leaves that make the cut
Stomping every sixth crack
Moving in multiples of three
You can find me in the woods
Constructing a life out of bubble gum and spider webs
And cackling
Cause that's all the thoughts in my head

If you need me...
Don't.
I'm not even here
Only you can hold back your fear.

But if you need me...
I'll be in the meadow
Caressing leaves
Crushing flowers
Smelling roots
Contemplating how to grow some of my own.
Or if I should bother.

If you need me
I'm in the wind
Scream your worries to the world
And I'll echo them back
But softer
Softer
Until they're barely heard at all

You don't need me
You're stronger.

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