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?
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Comments2
That’s sad … (()
'we' - shall, if you
would merely, trust
enough to allow us, a chance
to approach
and from a safe distance, demonstrate
that childhood, is merely a beginning
to your life's, tale
and show you
that you can, Choose
to heal yourself - of
those bruises
so as to insure, that majority
of life, ahead of you
awaiting, with open armed
untainted opportunity
can be curated, to your heart's desire
just allow, one of us
decent sorts
to give you a glimpse
of the kinder, more empathetic
paths in life...
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