53rdHamster

Weeds 

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I am a weed. In an ocean of grasses and beautiful flowers, I am the dandelions in concrete cracks.  I grow where I shouldn’t, where it’s hard to be, And I am uprooted so frequently. I am jealous of the flowers  That grow in garden beds, And I can’t help but to wish  That I was one of them. But I am the clovers, growing in patches In yards of nice homes, full of green grasses I am trampled and flattened, by uncaring feet, Plucked by hands, in hope of finding a special piece— But I only have three leaves.  I am the dead-nettle, with little purple blooms,  Not acknowledged until I am removed.  Soft leaves and fragile stems,  Torn apart and left for dead. 

I am a weed.  This repetitive story is centuries old, I am resilient against your world.  You have decided I do not belong, But I will carve a place in your lawn.  Pull me up, rip me out by the roots, but you have not won, Leave a dirt hole so you’re reminded of what you have done.  I’ll be back next year,  That’s how it works.  I will stay here, Despite all the hurt.  Those who desire near no variation  Are those by which I am most hated I am seen as a threat to their monotone grasses, Slowly I am removed as time passes and passes  But I am not gone. 

I am a weed.  Dandelion seeds carried on the wind,  Given a helping hand by a wish.  I am a reminder that diversity exists,  I am the remnants of the details you missed. 

I am a weed.  I am the plants which you gather to kill, But despite all your efforts, I am here still.  I will stay for generations,  My legacy will spread.  You may try to be rid of me, But I am not dead.