Forgotten Rose

I sit alone,

a rose forgotten,

amid a room of loveless faces.

I droop and wither,

wilt and fade,

while those who could water me with softest affection,

stand aside to wish I were dead.

And the only attention,

I seem to draw,

is yet another curse or beating.

Oh no,

did I do something wrong again?

O Lord, its so hard,

to find the strength to learn and live,

when those my heart is trained to look up to,

act no less immature than I.