Death of a tiny plant

I walked on a field in a dream.

Surrounded by a very thick steam,

I was afraid and ran towards a gleam,

Jumping through the course of a stream.

A tiny plant emerged from the ground,

Yawned, then curiously looked around,

Eyeing the huge horizon, without a sound,

It smiled so cute that I squealed loud.

The plant heard me and winced,

Luckily, it thought it was the wind.

To my shock, the little being,

Started heartbreakingly crying.

What happened to this creature?

Was it racked by some torture?

Would someone here perjure?

Why did the plant decease?

Then I saw them, there they were.

With the intention to observe,

Then crack the goner’s every nerve.

To them, death was not severe.

How can this world be so cruel?

I’m watching the blood pool,

And don’t understand the rule:

Why is humanity a ghoul?

Balázs-Blénessi-Pataki Kincső, IX. R