Poems from lemaster.95.osu.edu
All its life it was tortured
Stomped on, covered, abandoned.
Alone in the midst of winter it sprouted.
When everything else was dead, it...
Insignificant.
Irrelevant.
Nothing.
This is me.
Who I am.
All that I am.
Is this it?
Only in this microscopic globe
I'm left feeling...