Love Myself
By Rohan
Anything but singularity,
Nothing but united,
Black and white balls,
Bouncing on the turf,
Orange and black balls,
Skimming the hard floor,
A bee’s hive
Where every bee has the same amount
Of work and food,
Like a bee,
That works a lot,
And his work turns into food,
A bee thinks,
To spread its work out.
Like a bee,
Doing its friend’s work,
In its extra time,
Playing for all its worth,
Like a bee,
That in a field of flowers,
Spots the only one with pollen.
But sad,
As the bee that cannot hear
This is why,
I love myself
For what I am,
Because I am myself,
And I control myself.
What a wonderful poem Rohan. I can't wait to see more from you.
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