Dear Finder,

If there was any justice in the world
Then I wouldnt gag my mouth and weep
With the truth I hide deep beneath my scars
Of a flower that once blooming halfway through
Was mutilated by the very same who nurtured it
And left to wither on the rugged ground alone
For none would hear me out nor believe my plea
So why salt my wounds with more tears in vain
This nefarious world has place for the wrong doers
And wronged ones forgotten, suppressed and lost
Just like the withered flower that was once
Blooming halfway through...