What Kind of ‘Plant’ Am I?

A Lucy Dan 蛋小姐 (she/her/她), Jupiter Grant prompt response

For a while I was the duuude In the mood to just get screwed. Up in the clouds, my head so high For many years parents sighed.

I grew my hair. I laughed and played. Did anything to just get paid. Crossed country by thumb and truck, Ran amok and gave no fuck.

My plant then flowered in a different way. A late bloomer you could say. I used my brain and went to school. Wasn’t I an old wise fool.

Became a plant that made a good. Like the one they said I should. Became the guy who rose so high, An earned degree that flowered nigh.

Now I have my freedom back. No more machine, the hack I lack. Doing whatever sow I will, Writer? Joker? Learner? Shill?

What’s up next for this growing Boy don’t know? I may try showing What sun, seed, dirt and water bring A silent spring? Or everything?

A cyborg is part person, part machine. What’s the term for part plant, part machine? And, what would such a thing want or do?

This “What kind of plant are you?” story would never have germinated without the seeds provided by …

and

Ann Marie Steele, Upasana Sharma, Stuart Englander, William J Spirdione, Anthony O'Dugan, Kyomi O'Connor — You all know how this goes, far better than I.