to have sight, yet you still can't see.


out of a garden, a garden filled with rows,

of assorted roses, a dandelion grows.

pricked and looked down upon, the dandelion hides,

waiting with patience for somone to find

the importance of it, the reason why it's there.

the dandelion knows she is special and rare;

for it has a cure to a wide spread infection

that it has seen, for some time, in every direction.

but humbly it grows, with no where to go

hoping and wating, for some one who will know

the secrete of the weed, and why it glows.

"i'd rather be a weed than a vain garden rose."


dear readers, i implore you, to read in betwen the lines.

the life we live in now is trying to take what makes you devine.

convinced and lied, people have already changed

there looks, there manner, to the point of being deranged.

plastic surgery, eating disorders, violence; loosing there inner-self.

cocaine, meth, heroine; destroying there inner health.

theres a war at hand, open your eyes and see.

that love is being attacked, the true love that sets you free.

the love that says "i love you, for you, for who you are.

need to change, in eyes, you're my shining star"

there's a war at hand, open your eyes and see!

that the love is already inside you, let it out and be free.



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