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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #2161431
To the mother who gave up on me.
A weed who wants all...
But you can’t strangle me,
And that makes you upset.
I am a flower with an edge,
I may not be too pretty...
But I will not bend for you

So you shriveled up.
Left me to face the sun.

I miss you dearly,
The one who strangles.
The weed gave up.
Gave up on me!
Should I miss the weed?
Or should I pull it?
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2161431-The-Weed