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Wither
we find beauty in flowers,
their radiance and intricacy.
yet we cut them?
we cut them from their roots, their life sustaining veins…
slowly they wither, their beauty doesn’t fade.
yet we still toss them aside for the next freshly cut batch.
does beauty lose its value as it ages?
tossed aside and forgotten for the next beautiful thing?


© wolfepoetry