Inside this garden
I was just a burden
This is my home; a disaster.
A beautiful disaster.
By chance,
people would took a glance
and glare with disgust
like I'm just a nasty rust.
Who would choose a daisy anyway
in a garden of sunflower?
g.c.
YOU ARE READING
The unsaid poems
Poetry" it takes a pen, paper and a lot of heartaches for you to feel your pain and soul collide." xyz
