Burning Flowers【POETRY】

 Burning Flowers

We are the dregs;
The edge of humanity, the forgotten limbs
that make this world have its face
Time and time again, filing the slot
at the front's end.

We are your sport, your ignorance;
All that allows you to be,
We're the numbers behind your game,
and the architect of your floor.
but--

We are your dregs_,
Your slaves, your food.
We give root to the world's face
in bipolarity.

Your marginalized corner of life yet,
you need us. you come back to us.
For your survival or for your madness,

Why are you doing this?
Why do we get no thanks?

You're killing us...