Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Human Race


The flower and its color
Looks so vibrant and pretty.
It relieves eyes that are sore.
I just want to admire it.
They want beauty for themselves.
They’ll kill it; put it on shelves.

Just like a celebrity.
Glowing from within; special.
A real, inspiring beauty,
Causing dreams and never dull.
They’re so amazed by magic,
That they try hard to take it.

In trying to steal the gift,
They hurt the celebrity,
The human who owns the gift.
It makes the spirit not free.
It’s like death; people don’t care;
Like the death of the flower.

So what does this poem say?
When you’re too good, they’ll kill you?
It’s true, I’ll say if I may.
Like Macbeth, and Caesar, too.
It happened in history.
Greatness is a curse, you see?

But why does the flower bloom?
Why does the tree bear its fruits?
Because they last beyond death.

Beyond many centuries,
The celebrity shines on.
When we look back on the years,
We see the magic, not cons.
Like the flower back then.
Memorable on the den.

Continuing to inspire;
To fuel life to be great.
The natural gift can’t die.
You shall go on and be great.
Spread goodness where killers lie.
Excellence lives beyond life;
Their power dies before life.

Glow like a flower through the days,
For what is this human race,
Without an inspiration?
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