Compassion Poem

Each Person Is Important

I wrote this poem for my social class, comparing it to how slavery was hundreds of years ago. I wanted to show that how slaves were treated was unfair, and it was hurtful, although the people at the time didn't notice it, like us with weeds.

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Came From A Seed


Published by Family Friend Poems January 2017 with permission of the Author.

I stand here in the field alone;
I'm a dandelion with no home.
The people never water me.
They say, "That's no flower, just a weed."
But underneath the "just a weed,"
I am still a life that came from a seed.
I am not that different from a rose or a daisy,
But still people will call me lazy.
America's not where I'm supposed to be,
But people brought me here; I am not free.
You say I'm stupid, you say I'm dumb,
You poison me, so I feel numb.
I'm like a slave, no one cares.
I'm still a flower that's everywhere.
If I were a rose, you'd hold me tight,
Bring me home, show me the light.
A rose has thorns, I don't understand.
A rose is hurtful when held in a hand.
I have no thorns; I'm as soft as can be,
But you still hurt, poison, and step on me.
You brought me here years ago,
On big ships filled with cargo.
If you hated me so much, then why
Did you take me away so I could die?
I used to feel special; people used to care.
I was treated like other flowers, I was treated fair.
But in America, I'm sad, confused, and lonely.
All I ever wanted was someone to hold me,
But I guess I was wrong. I guess that's not right.
Why hold a dandelion? A rose is a prettier sight.
Please remember that underneath the "just a weed"
I am still a flower...I still came from a seed.


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