a daisy in a bouquet of roses,

on her own, you'd call her 'cute',

but she wants to be 'beautiful',

she sticks out like a sore thumb,

on her own she might be 'smart',

but next to them she seems 'slow',

They are models striking poses,

But she's nothing like the roses,

And at night she cries,

Because no one can see her,

If she could have one wish,

She would wish to be one of them,

And she wouldn't have to hide behind the roses anymore.