She had always been a flower,

One of millions by the road side,

And as they held their beauty contests,

Her petals drooped and she cried.


She was not the prettiest or smartest,

The most cunning or bold,

And as brilliant as her mind was,

She believed the lies the other flowers told.


So one day by the road side,

She let her glossy yellow petals fall,

Because for pain and beauty,

She had no need at all.


So when the children came to pluck,

They did not want her,

So they left her bare by the roadside,

The last remaining summer flower.


While the meadow flowers mocked,

She smiled happily,

Because this sad little flower,

Was finally happy.




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