Burnt Urns

The archaic remains of burnt urns Who cares! They have no value for what they’re worth Their feelings smashed to a thousand pieces Wastefulness gravitates from deep within Back to the mould but the memory remains Poking fun at the failure they had been This time it’s not going to get any better Uselessness surrounds the new exteriors again Despite all this the potter doesn’t resign As the urns painted with new color glow The world is fooled, but the inner self remembers Indentityless deep down within the memory still hurts One amongst the millions still unseen The urge to succeed will never be seen The burnt urns will never forget Superficialness will never get them anywhere