Weeds or wild flowers

We were wild flowers on the roadside

We were sunburnt 

And thirsty

I was lost mistakes 

And new dreams

I was a few goodbyes 

And fewer hellos 

I was the ghost of my school

And the clown of our house

Because painting on smiles

Became my new hobby

9th grade might as well have been a play

Because none of it felt real

Surrounded by pedigree plants

I pretended I was just one of them

But I've learned 

That pedigree plants 

don't grow on their own 

And I never wanted 

To be one of them

And painting roses red

Never changed what they were

Or what they could be

But leaving them that way

That's where it gets dangerous

So I chipped away the paint 

piece by piece  

And when I was done 

I met some people 

Who saw me as the wild flower I was

Not just a weed

Because maybe

That's how I felt.