like the flower picked for its beauty,
i am the one left behind.
the one that is not perfect.
not good enough to take home to your mom.
to show off.
or be proud of.
i grow more beautiful and stronger each day.
leaving you speechless in the end.
this is about you and about us. you were never truly proud of me to show me off nor did your mom ever like me. so thankful for showing me how not to be loved and giving me the inspirtation to write this poem.