- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Weed
Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click here
The Weed
That's what you call me.
The weed.
A blight on your perfectly ordered lawn,
your perfectly ordered life.
But can't you see
how beautiful my flowers are,
how delicate the petals?
Don't you look at how my leaves are shaded so beautifully?
Can't you tell that I cheer people up who walk by?
But no.
You have to try to stomp me out of existence,
shred me into a million pieces
and put me on the compost heap –
the only place for a weed like me.
Well, try.
Rip at me with your hoe.
Spray me with your poisons.
Try every tool known to mankind,
and the ones known only to you.
Bludgeon me with your hatred,
your indifference to what I have to offer.
Try your worst, as you always do.
The funny thing, though –
Weeds always win out in the end.
- COMMENTS
