Sometimes,
I feel like a seed.
A potential inert.
A possibility to succeed.
So just put me in the dirt and give me what I need.
How else can I avert?
How else can I exceed?
Other times,
I feel hurt.
Just a societal weed.
A potential victim on alert,
Nurtured only when I bleed.
I don't mean to be curt.
How else can I plead?
How else can I divert?
How else can I be freed?
I am the hurt seed.
The weed that's only freed by the blood that it bleeds.
Put into the dirt,
Just wishing to exceed.
Inert without encouragement.
Unable to succeed.
Thus I plead.
Be alert to my need.
Don't divert or think me curt.
I just want to succeed.
So just bury me.
And perhaps this seed will grow into a weed.