Ignorance of ones sprout is acceptable
Yet becomes a grass thru others must be useful
It must be quiescent in vintage time for cleansingMust not a headache for the flower that growin'
The sense of life is depend to the one who hold
But holding for naught thought and in their fate that fold
Are means all null that have turn life miserable?
No venture at all; how a grass be colorful?
As an ornament rather a trash undisplace
A grass as “trees’s leaf of our land” shows work amaze
Accepting unfortunate fate is’nt an aid
Hold on tight on stand’s ground for others have made
Their footstep is not a cross cause you’re strong
Seems colourful as long as you’re not doing wrong
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