Don’t Call Me a Weed

 
They don’t think I’m a flower,
Yes,
They call me a weed.
Said they didn’t plant,
My wind-blowing seed.
No,
I don’t belong here,
In their company;
But I still shine towards the sun,
In their adversity.

Yes,
They call me a weed,
But I think I’m a flower.
I bloomed all alone,
Drank up all the rain’s showers.
Just like they did,
But oh,
They still can’t seem to see;
Though I’m not a rose,
No,
This plant’s not a weed.

I grew in the concrete,
I grew in the snow.
I grew without sunlight,
You never know where I’ll grow.

But,
Oh!
How I wish,
All the other flowers could see;
Though I’m not a rose,
No,
Don’t call me a weed.