Abandoned Child
This bud, this little one,
left to wither,
unloved,
forgotten.
It’s me.
No warmth to nurture it,
no gentle hand to hold.
Just the cold wind,
Whispering that I’m not wanted.
I’m a bud in winter,
alone on a barren branch,
my roots were torn,
my promise of bloom forever lost.
I’m just… discarded.
Do they see a bud,
but they don't see my strength?
They don’t see my potential
to weather any storm.
But I'm a fighter.
I’ll find my sun.
I’ll find my soil.
I'll grow.
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