You get tortured by them
But they are they weeds connected to your stems
You're a flower that blooms
But they sweep up your mood like brooms
Creating to destroy
Being treated like a toy,
With no wings,
Trapped in the flaming pyre
But with one final desire
You fly.

You want to be just like them,
Yet you are the flower to a stem
Unique, You say,
Won't have to you any day
But it is born
From your first breath
Till the day you'll be mourned
You have it.

You are wise
In your own way
You are amazing
Like No Other
You feel judged,
But you are also loved

All By Allie -Allie

I like the poem!! it seems ever since I found the winter poem everyone is sending poems which is not a bad thing.