Poem: Waxen Romantic

Submitted for my Creative writing class:

I long not to be likened to a flower,
 A cacti I strive to be,
Cruelly misunderstood in my affections,
 Prickly, if you as much as try to touch,
Where I still blossom a stately bloom,
 No such burden to stand in one attitude,
With sufficient room to reach,
 My succulent stems protrude,
With spines and my waxen films,
 I bask quite contentedly, safe in my skin,
Able am I to comfortably mature,
 In the confines of my armor,
Unlike a bud in any field,
 None will pluck me to adorn their sill,
For I know I'm agreeable from afar,
 As a cacti is unique to be,
In reverse, I flourish,
 Against the grain sits well with me,
As ageless as I impress,
 We resemble each in sublimity,
When gratitude is found lacking,
 And not one seems to look twice,
If notice is not had,
 I supposed my lone company’s not half bad,
Unlike with florals, their fondness lively,
 And fauna a healthful jade glow,
Then, with my spined self, it's not all that bleak,
 And that is all I pray to know,
Before all of my lengthy tomorrows,
 In sorrow, I shall not want to wallow.