The Weed

Forgotten, lost, thrown out
Never to be remembered again

Dying, fading,never to be seen again
Saddened it may be
No one really seems to care

Sad, lonely, tired
It’s cut down and begins to grow again
Green leaves withered and branches shrivelled
It’s separated from the rest of its group

Wherever it seems to go it’s never welcomed
It longs for a touch of empathy
Somebody that wants to love

Its trunk, crooked and spiralled
Squeezed between an old cracked fence
It just takes over the picture
It realises it’s never really going to fit in

It stands alone forever misunderstood