life lost

the dead leaves know so little

the swine and their eager snouts

scour the pile, although too brittle

swarming minds with no doubts

 

seeks for hints of undeniable light

but only reveals a broken flower

foreign realization begins to bite

and sets in a fatal loss of power

 

that tattered rosebud,

without compassion

a life is lost

This poem is about: 
Our world

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