A Poet's Land

Born beautiful and lucky Just like a single flower It attracts every pollinators Whether day or night But in this poet's land, He was born with thorns And unfortunate That's why no one's picking him Bees and butterflies passing by But the poet is not capable to attract them And so, the clouds covered the Sun And the poet is still laying on his land Waiting to be seen Until the blades rust And so, the poet accepted his fate, Pollinators were never made for him, He was born to bloom without them © Domar Esmabe