Banished from the gardens of Eden,
This green pariah.
To the beige hell on earth,
Without a single messiah.
With thorns over its body,
An untouchable of its kind.
Shapeless like a fat lady,
Who without reasons is always maligned.
No gardeners to depend when hungry
No rains to hinge on when thirsty
No birds to speak when lonely
And No poets to write its misery
Yet, it stays with courage,
And lives a life so sour
And from its hard earned blood
Grows the most beautiful flower.
Everytime in my life,
When there is no one to hold a light,
Or to hear my woeful plight.
And when defeat is in my sight
I think of the cactus flower
And It inspires me to fight
And I fight
And I fight.
