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
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