I am the thorns
That prick your fingers
While holding a rose.
I am the weeds
That you work so hard to get rid of
I am the rotten tomato,
That no one cares for.
I am the ignored,
The thrown out,
The pain.
I’m the one no one wants.
So I prick myself
On my painful thorns
I destroy myself
So you won’t have to
I’ll throw myself
Off a bridge, building, cliff-
Whatever makes you happiest.