A Nettle Amongst The Thorns
I Grow where ever I want to, sometimes out of control
A Nettle Amongst The Thorns
Just a Nettle Amongst the Thorns
I never asked to stand out here,
among the bloom and bite.
Not rose, not bramble, not admired,
just trying not to fight.
The wind treats all the same, I guess,
the rain is just as cruel.
But roses get the praise and poems,
and I am called a fool.
They clutch their cuts and cry my name,
though I was barely brushed.
While every thorn gets kissed and kept,
and I am simply hushed.
I grow where others dare not go,
I sting, but still I stay.
Just a nettle amongst the thorns,
that no one clears away.
I wasn’t meant for beauty’s game,
nor bred for soft applause.
I rise without a single bloom,
and still defy their laws.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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