Behold the aghast yellow cups,
Singing they in thrill n rap,
Only to please their weary look,
Yes known to them a forced thrill,
Yet trying their best to cherish,
The facade of their beauteous look.
Waving they their cuff like necks,
Full of nectar for future moth,
Yet presenting chameleon look,
As reluctant to give them their sip,
Though known to them a food for their birth,
Yet remain silent and dormant in course,
You know why I will tell you,
They too are plagued one.
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