Has bloomed,
Looking upto the sky,
Has forgotten the
Smell of soil.
To the false
Promises of
The moon and
The stars.
It has lost the
Sense of where
It belongs.
The leaves and
Twigs feel like
Restrains.
The foliage like
A prison it has
Been held in.
To the illusion
That is set in,
Should it mistaken
It's petals for
Wings?
Who doesn't
Want to scale
The sky?
Knowing its
Limitations
Hasn't the Hen
Given up on
Its own flight?
Our flower has
Fallen in love
With its own
Reflection.
Narcissistic pride
Has grown out
Of proportion.
Unrealistic
Aspirations has
Messed its head,
When it looked
Beyond its roots
And learnt to
Pretend.
No comments:
Post a Comment