Been living my life like a Touch-Me-Not
Hiding in the corners, falling through the cracks
Freeing up the space- in a place- too big to contain me
Trying to arrange me

(i'm not a damn flower; you'll see)

The thing about weeds
No one notices them 'till they're in the way-
Got prickles sharp enough to cut me
Poisons strong enough to kill me

Nothing left but pesticide
Nowhere left for me to hide

And guess what- i don't care-
Because a weed can't ever cry

i'll keep living my life like a Touch-Me-Not
Believe me- it doesn't matter if you forget me or not

There are always more weeds to pull.

The End

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