You sprouted in dry, sandy and infertile land,
A seed fallen from a careless farmer’s basket,
Like a weed, growing where it is not wanted!
You thrived through the scorching hit of destiny,
Not watered, not pruned, not weeded,
How come they expected much out of you??
Still you grew;
Through the scorching hit
In the infertile land you called home
watered by your own tears.
Your mother complained often
that there was no much to be got out of you;
A lonely seed growing where it was not wanted;
A lonely seed growing where it was not planted.
Still you grew, still you grew!!!
Others dried off and withered,
But still you grew, you grew;
A beautiful tree heavy laden with fruits…
Frail, yet resiliant. Painfull, yet beautiful. Upvote given.
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Thanks brother
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Welcome. Check my poems too.
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