Plastic Butterfly
We float for years - drift and disintegrate.
But we don’t give rise to flowers.
We pollute; as our morality incinerates,
We float and die - drift and disintegrate.
From ourselves we seek to liberate -
Clasp our hands on bent knees we cower.
We float only to fall - drift and disintegrate.
And we don’t give rise to flowers.
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