Weeds

I’ve always wondered why people hate the sight of weeds so much

The sprout of a yellow bud, the spikes of its leaves

“A weed is a plant in the wrong place,” is what they say

But it got me thinking: “Where can weeds grow?”

Where can they flourish, flaunting their yellow color?

Hated by many and loved by so few?

I walk past a lush, green garden and see a little weed, growing

Among a plethora of other living, growing plants

Surrounded by life and filled with life, that little weed was

Until a man in blue stepped in front and spewed it poison

Slowly killing the unwanted flower.

I let out a little sigh

That weed had no home

It’ll always be in the wrong place, it’s growth but a memory

 

_________________________________________

It’s always when I walk past houses that have no owners, gardens that get no care, and general areas that are run-down where I find weeds growing and flourishing. Their spiky looking leaves paired with it’s pretty yellow bud remind me of the paradoxical existence of the rose: beautiful but dangerous. From a gardener’s perspective, I can understand why they would try to kill it, as it proves to suck away nutrition from other plants, and do all sorts of other pesky things. But I’ve always wondered how weeds, from an aesthetic perspectives, grew to be so hated.

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