I am made of what I am not

I a sunflower
acquiesced to stay a pretentious rose.
An owl of you-know-what
Who prefers to sing in bad notes.
I walk under the Cerulean sky
Still in love with the stars and moon.
Words, words, words
For my abstract human shell.
Diligently formed opinions,
with rudimentary synonyms-
compared, assumed and asserted.
I am made of what I am not
only to surge in defined anonymity.