She was a beautiful poppy
the most colorful
it was an intense red,
intense like her passion.
In a field full of poppies
you would have notice her anyway.
She was the strongest poppy,
although apparently the weakest.
They tried to snatch this poppy
from the field sometimes
but she resisted everytime
and she gave her strength to everybody.
At the end they made it,
they picked her up from the field.
But i will always remember this poppy
The most red and the strongest poppy.
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YOU ARE READING
Oh my messy mind ✧°·
PoetryJust some little things that comes out of my messy mind (Some might be in Italian since I'm from Italy)