The Curse of Seeing
A fly on a window glass
Sees the open skies
The blue grass
The soothing breeze
The rustling leaves of the trees
Yet
Neither can it understand nor escape
The immovable cruality
That lets it see it all, but feel none.
A fly on a brick wall
Not able to see
The wonders of the world,
The marvel of freedom.
It's content with the rough plaster
And lives happily ever after
Copyright © Wingless Moth | Year Posted 2018
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