When a child picks
a daisy
over a dandelion.
No matter how tall
your dandelion feels unloved
In an effort to be
like a daisy
it changes.
It's bright yellow
now gone.
The dandelion feels proud
and strong,
That it's disguise won't fail.
until she spots the daisies
in the child's hand.
Now the dandelion
Once bright and bold
Let's go of its white beauty.
And fades to a dead brown.
All because
A child picked a daisy
over a dandelion.

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