Just like all the other flowers?
I bear thorns and the ugliest bloom,
And people pull me out of their yards,
So I don't spoil the others spendor,
As they gracefully grow and blossom,
I die, wilting in the heat,
Because I'm not beautiful like you,
I'm rough and weathered,
Not loved and pampered,
Because I have a different beauty,
That lies beneath my skin,
In the cold, deserted chambers of my chest,
Where love has never been,
From the black life that I've been dealt,
I lay here in the sidewalk,
Shriveling to my death,
Because my beauty was unseen.
April 14, 1995