A LETTER OF THANKS.

I don’t like being broken . To be deconstructed and made into metaphors . To be compared to the pretty things I simply can’t be for myself . To sound like the waves of the oceans but exist only as a ripple in a random puddle . To look like an early bloomer in a field of sunflowers but exist only as a dead seed . But listen to me world , I may be weed . I may be destruction bound to plead for nothing but attention . I am bountiful in my presence yet lack so much affection . I spread . Fields and fields of disregard . I am unwanted . I am undesired . A penniless card . But I am something . And some things are beautiful.

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