Plastic Lives

Shining, gleaming plastic flowers in a vase Vague is the idea of sun for them So alien is the rejuvenating water Vagaries of wind ,an unknown phenomenon No smell to boast of Their beauty so cosmetic, fake and pure imitation Not having the pleasure of withering, to give birth to new life They just stay there With just their fake beauty, as comfort Not knowing what it means to die and to be born again and again No one plucks it for its beauty No one stares it in awe Living a life of futility, being so soulless and thoughtless