By: Rextraos
You should not pity the weed.
Flowers are pretty and weak,
And need a lot of water and fertile soil.
The weed scoffs as it grows elsewhere,
Sustaining on willpower alone.
Flowers want love and yearn for the sun.
The weed hides in the shadows,
Or in plain sight for it truly does not care.
A scoop of pesticide here and there,
Flowers are fragile and they have all sadly died.
Out of the ashes near by a flowers corpse,
Stronger than it was ever before,
Lies a single surviving weed, proud and alone