A flower in disguise.
Masquerading as a flourishing being.
Unfettered by its changing self.
There is beauty in such a flawed being,
Tunnel vision or innocence?
Does it matter?
Why must it be judged?
A futile society expecting a complete comprehension,
But does even the society know?
Where flowers live and die,
Its always a life well lived,
An untold tale of short lived glory,
A thing that spreads and nurtures,
Its innocence?
A beauty in failing.
A thing to behold breathless.
Allowing a new morning to rise,
A new bloom to come.
A beauty in innocence.
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