𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 ― poetry book

004.

THISTLES & SUNFLOWERS

down by the edge the thistle bush grows.
for she is mean, and she is rude-
and so for that, she shall not grow.
for where the sunbeams glow,
she is the one who is left to yellow.

down by the field, the sunflower grows.
but she is good, and she is gold,
and she blooms as she grows.
for she is good, and she is kind.
the thistles die whilst she still shines.

down by the edge, the children come to play.
they're the ones with sweet laughs,
they're the ones who sing and play.
but as the day draws dark, and the air turns windy-
they turn they back, they run away.
the thistles are left there to stay.

down by the field, the children come to play.
they're the funny ones with tales,
they're the ones who talk and dance all day.
but as the sun settles down, and the stars spread out-
they lay themselves down, they lay there and stay.
the sunflowers twirl, they are all there to stay.

but the thistles are mean, the thistles aren't kind.
the sunflowers are, for they have the mind.
but the thistle aren't mean, the thistles do try.
but they are the ones who can never seem to comply.
the thistles are scared, the thistles want to be kind-
but for all it matters, they can never seem to shine.

thistles aren't sunflowers,
no matter how hard they try.
kind, good, nice-
grow, bloom shine-
all in all, it never seems to bind.

but the thistles are mean,the thistles don't mind... however-just this once, they wish they were kind.

rosie speaks!

this is a vent piece. i have no idea
if this even is good- but it's just one
of those days where i don't feel as
good as other people in my life.

to those who seem so constantly kind:

i'm sorry i can't be like you,
i'm sorry i'm not as kind.