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Among all the leaves 

Decaying and feeding 

There lay one impostor.

One made of plastic 

Refusing to change 

Littering the forest floor.

Not giving. 

Only absorbing precious sunlight

And not doing anything with it. 

Not feeding.

Not changing. 

Not growing. 

Do not be an impostor 

Because they are the true 


They may look fresh. 

They may look rich.

They may even look perfect. 

But perfection lays in the balance 

That the impostor


Are you an impostor?

Or are you imperfect

And a part of the dance?

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