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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Philosophy >> ID #957170 |   |
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I can't help but pity the dandelion
It is alive It has an innocent beauty It even smells nice And yet, it is shunned It is a weed As such, it is sought after and killed Despite all of the good things No one sees them Only the child, as innocent as the flower Only the child sees the beauty And then the child grows up I can't help but identify with the dandelion
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