A path less traveled leaves the wild flowers unscathed from the damage of being stepped on constantly and through the natural beauty, we experience an unprecedented phenomena of emotion and light. My gaze set upon that one flower, damaged and ignored by even the simplest bee, yet i have an urge to pick you for myself, but alas, if I do, I will kill something that radiates the pain experienced... The flawed beauty of imperfection!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem