My peculiar nature grows like a weed,

Near the beautiful petals

Of flowers grown from Beauty’s seed.

My boorish leaves stick out awkwardly,

And my mundane color

Shows I’m nothing orderly.

I plead with the sun to cast her rays

To brighten my complexion

For beauty to shine on me each day.

I ask the clouds for rain

So I’ll grow tall and strong,

Though they show disdain.

If only I was a flower,

Not some ugly weed.

I’d be happy every earthly hour.