Roses and Sunflowers

roses don't look like sunflowers

yet I think both are beautiful when I see them

so why am I mean to myself 

because I look different from them

why can't I call myself beautiful as easily as I can to them

why do I talk to myself so harshly when I have the ability to grow

at the end of the day I lay alone

if I treated myself as good as I treat others

i'd grow as beautiful as a flower is

and it's exhausting knowing exactly what I need to do to love myself

but feeling unable to actually do it


This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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