Some people are like flowers,
Breathtakingly beautiful
Bright colours and smiles plentiful
Others are like weeds
You want them out of your life
For all they do is cause you strife.
I’m the exception, the one inbetween
My petals have holes and brown spots,
I’m fucked up, I mean.
I’m jealous,
Jealous of their beauty, their life, their colors
I wish I was like the others,
But I’ve never been loved,
not even by my mother.
For who picks the broken flower?