The Weed

This is still a work in progess, so as edits are made I’ll be updating it. I thought I’d go ahead and share it though.

The Weed

I am a weed
But I want to be a tree

I look for the sun,
Longing for its warmth,
Yet I struggle to feel it on my skin
Too cold from the shadows created within.

Unquenchable thirst,
Desperate to taste something pure,
But there will never be enough
To help me grow, I'm sure.

So fragile and frail,
Easy to pick at or pluck.
Yet in this muddy bed
I feel completely stuck.

My arms can't stretch,
They're so little and weak.
My voice so tiny,
Why bother to speak?

I long to sway,
To be set free,
But I'm just a weed
Wishing to be a tree. 

©S.T. '18
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