Daisies
Are quite like people
(or perhaps people are like daisies)
In full bloom in the light
But in the shade they hide away,
Wallowing in self pity.
Allowing themselves to be picked on
and trampled into a million pieces,
By letting people walk over them.
So pretty
Yet so humble,
Their beauty goes unnoticed, even by themselves.
Until one day someone treasures it
and falls hopelessly in love with the humble daisy,
Preferring it over the other daisies.
Then finally the daisy shrinks
to a tatty mess,
no longer young and beautiful-
Dead.
again this has little structure and was written when I was 15!