Bloom


Here I stand,
in a field full of beauty,
field full of daisies.
Yet I am the only one,
who hasn't bloom to grow.
Is it perhaps the sun?
Or perhaps the rain?
Maybe it's the pressure of others.
Forcing me to be someone who I'm not meant to be.
Are they right? Am I close-minded to think such?
Unable to accept that I am,
the only one here, standing below others.
In this suffocating pressure, suffocating society.
Maybe I should leave,
to find a home, to find a place,
so I could grow to be me.
To be my own beauty.

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