Unselfish Realisation

Our hands rush to touch that flower blooming to the fullest in the garden, 

To admire the beauty it beholds,

To pluck it and keep it with us for the time its alive, 

The flower fooled, that we were smitten, 

Smitten with the beauty and the fragrance it imparts, 

They believe that we will take them to the abode and plant them safe. 

But then there's no one to tell them the reality 

For the ones plucked are dead to warn them again, 

That the world is too egotistical to love selflessly

That what we do is not out of love for them, but only for us, 

That we are just creatures who act out of impulse and don't bother to care about the repercussion                              

It's sad by the time they understand this, they lose their identity.