A painting

A painting
In a city park
That starts to shine
Each time things get dark,
It has fluorescent paint,
A composition
And an air so quaint,
But no one buys it,
People say
They just want to survive -
Even those who used to thrive.
The destiny of art
Is to shine
For some time
And then to be forgotten.
A painting looks
Like a flower
Without water.


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