Pretty.
There are millions of words, thousands,
An abundance
Of adjectives.
Yet we choose the word pretty
To compliment someone?
What is your worth
Measured
In such aesthetic,
Profound beauty?
We are more than that.
Why should it matter?
Our beauty fades
Over time
And all we will have left is our souls,
Our brains,
Our hearts.
Beauty isn't permanent.
At least not the one
That lies on top of our skin
And spreads through
Like an endless, pointless ocean
That harbors no life.
We are more
Than
Just
Pretty.
YOU ARE READING
Eden
PoesíaLife changes, so will I. *** What I hope to achieve in poetry is betterness. In my writing, in myself, and in this work.
