Lychee. 
A tough shell protects me. 
It takes a lot of falls to break my shell. 
That's why you never see my cry about my bruises. 
I already have too many anyway. 
 
On the inside, 
There is a soft sweet inside, 
sometimes sour. 
And in the center, 
The seed. 
The core. 
The sole reason why the fruit grows. 
Just like my life grows based on my core, 
my brain. 
 
I am usually bought in a bunch,  
my friends being next to me. 
I'm afraid to be alone, 
but when I am, 
it reveals who I truly am. 
 
People tell me I'm tough.  
Every time I fall, I get back up. 
I get back up and run. 
Push myself to the end. 
That's because my shell is not broken by falling, 
but by cutting. 
The sharp words penetrate my shell. 
The sharp blade cuts through my own skin. 
It reveals who I truly am.  
 
 
 
A sweet but sour inside. 
I sometimes have hurtful things to say. 
But I still care. 
A lot. 
To the point where I'll throw myself away, 
because according to you,  
you'll be better off if I was off this planet. 
 
The blade still cuts. 
It cuts until it reaches my core, 
my last hope. 
The seed,  
when planted in the right soil, 
can grow into something more beautiful. 
 
So, I didn't give up. 
Even if my skin was scarred multiple times, 
my seed was never destroyed. 
My only hope. 
They told me to not lose it. 
That there is so much more to live for. 
So, I planted that seed, 
and now you all see the new me, 
stronger, and even more knowledgeable. 
And not extinct. 
 
I am a lychee- 
Someone with a tough looking shell, 
that cuts easily with sharpness, 
but reveals a soft sweet inside, 
my hope settled beneath all that.