Requiem of the Weeds

Rejected, shunned, we search for home again,

a place where we could grow and live like trees

where we could coexist with plants and men

a land where we, like others, can be free.

 

Again we rise through earth up to the sky.

Alas, we need much sustenance to thrive.

And when Man sees, we know that we will die

so that the crops around us can survive.

 

Where then do weeds go, lost, afraid, alone?

Again we search in vain for hope and lands

that we can cherish, love, and call our own

without the scorn and scoffs of dirt-stained hands.

 

For can it be a sin, can it be wrong

for us to dream of lands where we’d belong?

Author's Note

Any kind of criticism would be much appreciated, or just general comments. :)

Reviews

[MoriartyMesa]

Reminds me of old hippies, which is not bad cause you want people to think.

I see a bunch of old hippies hanging around wondering what happened to the new world of light and magic they were gonna create.