The weed is a wild, untamed thing,
With no redeemable worth,
Growing in forgotten places,
On the fringes of the earth.
Your form is unconventional,
And your colors unrefined,
But there's a weird attraction,
To your risky, course design.
You bloom where there is no notice,
In the cracks and in the dust,
Promoting sin’s defiance,
And the power of this world’s trust.
While you secretly seek attention,
And strive for any man's smile,
You broadcast your existence,
In a provocative and personal style.
And in that, your beauty is forsaken,
A lesson for us all,
To recognize our hidden wildness,
And to answer life's true call.
So grow, you wild weed, and grow freely,
In your untamed, undisciplined way,
For you are men’s reminder,
That there is yet worth in a wandering stray.
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