She's different,
In a field of sunflowers,
She's the wild rose,
Some would scrutinize her,
Some would say she's a waste of space,
Some would try to uproot her,
But they don't realize,
She's just a misplaced jewel,
One day, everyone will see that,
But for now, she waits for that day to come.
YOU ARE READING
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PoetryThings I write in the middle of the night when I can't sleep or whenever I feel the need to put my heart into words. Poems•Prose•Short Stories•Artworks
