I understand the plight of

Flowers

Beyond solar finger tips.

Wilting is not a deficiency, 

As we are taught,

But a loss of will.

And so we fall in on ourselves.

The burden of life

Too heavy to bear.

Reunited with the tender

Soil.

For every act of strength,

There is an act of weakness.

For every stale word,

There is a kind one

That falls upon deafened ears.

For every birth,

A life must be taken.

I understand the plight,

Of the struggling knight;

Of the tired and the weary;

Of the tear-stained gravesite.

I understand the plight 

Of the ones too far gone.