The red on the floor,
Attracting notice of folks unknown,
Hides a gory fable of pain.
Flowers dipped in their own blood
Rest on a dusty path,
Dismembered from their nub.
What meets the eye
Is a beautiful lie.
Old petals fly with time,
New ones augment to the unseen woe;
Loneliness deepens.
Some take a while to appreciate,
Others pass an unbothered smile;
The story is about that we cannot see.
What meets the eye,
Is a beautiful lie.
Virtual Marionette 
Just fascinating!
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Thank you so much 😊
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Very deep!
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Means a lot! Thanks a tonne, Komal😊
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Beautiful!
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Thanks
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The story is very profound. What we see is not the reality. How well you’ve portrayed the truth of life. The photo is also so apt. Excellent
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Thank you so much
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