Modern Art
She loved
broken things
like she loved
the petals
of withered roses,
that scattered
for their own funeral
like strewed confetti-
which a lover
may have dropped
unintentionally
or intentionally-
crushed
under branded shoes
and under the wheels
of the cars
driven
by unsparing drivers
who aren’t troubled
by squeezing life
out of humans,
let alone a flower;
and she called it
‘modern art’.
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