With a field full of flowers
There is always one that feels alone.
Whether intentionally or not, that one is always left out
There is always one shy, little flower.
Wind and rain pound against it
Too strong for only one to stand against.
If only one would slide back ever so slightly
They could all see so clearly that shy, little flower.
If only one would raise its head to look beyond itself
They would all eventually see.
If they would open their circle
They could fight the burdens of the wind and rain together, united as one family.

By E.E.D.

Poetry Slam: 



Why must we always take others down to raise ourselves up?

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