Gray . . .

I used to be a flower, but all that’s left is a stem.
I hated my petals, so i got rid of them.

My colors were ugly, so I threw them away,
I wanted blue, pink, and purple; I didn’t like all of this gray.

to fit in was all I really wanted,
The roses were never got teased or taunted.

I was like the last picked in athletics,
I blamed it on genetics.

I wanted to be in a pretty bouquet,
But my color gray, got in my way.

So I tore my petals out, and stomped them to the ground,
They flew away in the wind, and were never to be found.

Now they're gone for good,
I should've just understood.

Looks can be deceiving, and gray is not so bad,
But now I know that I possessed more than I thought I had.


Tammie LeeAnn Thrasher

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