April 26, 2012
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He treated me like a weed,
growing in his garden
Protecting me from other plants
who tried to steal my light

He gave me lots of compliments
Praised my beauty and my soul
Until two other flowers
seemed to catch his sight

He planted them right away
One from Texas, one blazing Red
And dug me from the ground
I might as well be dead

So now I am a weed, thrown aside in the dirt
Dealing with the sadness, the anger, the hurt

But what he does not know
is that i have a certain charm
and i have sown my seeds elsewhere

Far from his harm

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hippiechick99 said...
May 9, 2012 at 3:30 pm

I know exactly what you mean in this poem, and how could you say this isn't a good poem? I thought it was really good :)

Check out my work if you want to :)

Alixchica66 replied...
May 9, 2012 at 4:03 pm
Thank you, hippie :) i guess us writers just go through this phase where you suddenly feel like your work is coming out crappy...know what i mean? But now that i read it, i am reassured, so thank you!
Dreamer7697 said...
May 7, 2012 at 1:15 am
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