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Ode to the Weed

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I never opted for the rose
That bloomed like wild on a summer morn
I never could be one of those
Whose shoulders lilacs would adorn
The child must always be seen and not heard
The woman can only be mother and wife
The sheep must always follow the herd
So honored in death and scorned in life
The land of the free with the streets paved with gold
If you are different then off with your head
Our winters are hot and our summers are cold
The truth never told, until someone lies dead
You do know that beauty is only skin deep
The inside of a flower may be outside a weed





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babigerl1194 said...
Jul. 25, 2010 at 11:11 am
im glad you said it was like a metaphor of america. i got it while reading it but i had to reread it. its ok.
 
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