when i look at those beautiful roses,
i wonder what happens to beauty.
it is plucked or withered,
sometimes, it gets crushed under the feet.
when i look at truthful people,
i wonder what happens to the truth.
is it hidden by lies or manipulated by liars,
because it has become a strange way of life.
when i look at caring eyes,
i wonder how many of them are there in the world.
just a handful,
leaving apart the natural ties.
when i look at beautiful sights,
i am worried about how many more would i be able to see.
the world is full of adulteration,
and beauty is rare to see.
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