I wish I
were a flower.
Beautiful,
cherished,
and loved.
But instead,
I’m a weed.
Part of nature,
but people view them as a nuisance.
They grow,
unwanted
in little gardens.
Take up room,
in which a pretty flower may grow instead.
People don’t care
about stepping on them
and pulling out their roots from the soil.
In fact,
they’re just interlopers
in a world
where only flowers matter.
