Carlina Flower

I am a Carlina Flower;

It's my mother's name,

But it matches me so well.

I hope I don't go insane.

I have many nicknames,

One that calls me fake,

Due to my leaves changing,

Based on the soil, I partake.

I went to many schools,

Throughout my upbringing,

And learned to blend in,

Even when I was turning .

I am orange but not bright;

I am a rustic orange,

That stays out of sight.

I am the orange you see in a sunset,

The orange that makes you run,

I am the orange you see,

When there is only the sun.

Sometimes I get insecure,

By my looks,

When I am compared,

To a Sunflower in a book.

I look frail and meek,

Even though,

I pulled through,

Many adversities.

I am a rustic orange ,

Carlina Flower grown in poor condition,

I can survive,

Even though I am filled with tension.

I can grow

In dry soil or sand;

Even though I lack nutrition,

I am good for your skin.

I am teased for my unusualness,

Like the rustic orange.

I am hard to find as,

I am rarely sold in stores.

I switch my fashion,

From boy to girl,

Like I switch my moods,

From being coyish to living up North

Orange is a color,

Not associated with gender,

Rustic in color,

Almost brown like a Fender.

My favorite insect is a bee;

Not only are they fluffy and pretty,

they have always been a resource for me.

I am a prized friend,

When you get to know me;

I will be there for you,

To help remove the ugly.

Rather it's your wounds,

Or appetite,

I will fight for you

Without asking for anything in sight.

I am a Carlina Flower

Who wants to travel far;

You will only catch me,

During the summer hour.