Just A Weed

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: March 03, 2018

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Submitted: March 03, 2018

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It was never planted. 
It was just a weed. 
Growing amongst the grass. 
Not a care in the world. 
Unknowing to life’s cruel actions. 
And then it met floods,
And droughts,
And lawn mowers,
And weed killers. 
And despite its circumstances,
It lived!
It lived and grew and thrived. 
Yellow petals emerged from the green leaves. 
Beautiful and brighter than the sun. 
But still,
It was a weed. 
Even then, it stood tall and strong. 
And then it met heat waves,
And frosts,
And children’s feet,
And animals paws. 
And despite its circumstances,
It lived!
However, it did not grow or thrive. 
Yellow petals fell to the ground. 
Disfigured and dead they laid.
The other plants watched,
As it slowly fell apart.
They watched and watched,
But could not fight.
They were rooted down,
And they could only observe. 
The leaves closed up, 
And started to fall.
It sunk defeated.
It was truly only a weed now,
And nobody likes a weed.
Dead and ugly and a waste of space.
The other plants just continued to watch.
They watched as the sun shone,
Or storms raged,
Or children and animals ran about,
Or temperatures changed.
And they watched,
As the little weed stopped fighting.
Until one day,
The shriveled leaves started moving,
Then falling off.
And in their place,
Seeds started to grow. 
A new form of life.
The little weed started growing,
Growing tall and strong again. 
It was not dying, merely changing.
But by being different from other plants,
It was automatically labeled a weed.
Unwanted.
Unnecessary.
Bothersome.
A burden.
The little weed was hurt,
Hurt by the destructive hand of life.
Yet, the little weed bounced back.
The little weed rose above life,
The little weed took what it was,
And used that to its advantage. 
The little weed found happiness and love,
In itself.
That’s all the little weed will ever need.


© Copyright 2018 Sam Emery Macler. All rights reserved.

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