A seed has to,



And crumble,

Before it can grow,

And it make sense,

That she is a dandelion,

Because she is,

Too tough to be daisy,

For she has,

Grown and flourished with cracks,

In her heart and mind,

And you always treated her,

Like she was a hardwood,

And when she tried,

To tell you,

That she was a dandelion,

You left,

Because she was too common,

And you couldn’t find beauty,

In something you,

Thought she wasn’t,

So in the end,

She is a dandelion,

The toughest of the “weeds,”

And I️ know she isn’t,

A proud rose,

Or a humble daisy,

But that shouldn’t have mattered,

If you truly loved her.

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