Perhaps you weren't born with flowers on your tongue
Or roots to hold your heart firm
You may not have fruits growing on your arms to hand over some
But, oh little one, that's why God made seeds
Of kindness, of politeness, of gratitude for surviving
Plant them in your soul but do cut out all the weeds
Of hatred, of envy, of malice and greed
Soon all of you shall blossom and bloom
Into something worth adoring
Worth loving
Worth dreaming of
Worth planting in souls to have more
Blossoms like you

— your blooming soul