A Wilted Flower

A pretty rose is given all the praise

And fools will drool all the days

 Whilst a wilted flower is disdained

And ideas by the mind ingrained.

But I, I see the truth

That blind are the youth

And wrong is given this praise

For this rose decays

But you, you wilted flower

Will be granted all the power

For hour after hour

And rain shower after shower

Will make you grow to be the strong

Which I saw all along.

Thy beauty will grow

And never will I know

What you had to undergo

But nothing will it mean

For as it was seen

As they decayed

You were remade

Your beauty outgrew the rest

And now you are the best