The Fallacy Poem by Vaibhav Simha

As a tree beholden to the ripening fruit,
It vows to supplement the scion's sweetness;
Caring less if the sacrificial pawn be the trunk or root,
The tree holds an insipid farewell as the true menace.

And the fruit, unbeknownst of the progenitor's plight,
Expects splendour in its parting gift, as it plunges into the light,
Caring less if the sacrificial pawn be the trunk or root,
Which the tree is alacritous to mangle for the sweetening fruit.

Lord, why must a mere divergence, decreed by fate,
Be straitened and trammelled by things pecuniary and irate?
Love estranged, now replaced, by earthly wills and wants,
Which, if dishonoured, calls for accosting by brays and taunts.

This is not only the quandary of the poor nature folk,
But rather a gremlin of human desires, demands and morals—
A fiasco of mankind that laid bare all the fallacy before the wise oak;
And thus is venerated no one, not man nor vegetation, with laurels.