Product of A Dying Breed

Location

Like chocolate in the sun, the wise are melting away

And those that are left are invisible during the day

It seems as if I am of the last few left

Since the world is a map, my life is a quest

I have no flaws because I have no greed

That is why I am a product of a dying breed

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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