Beauty. a word controlled by society.
Perfect weight, perfect shape.
Perfect eyes, perfect size.
The only beauty is perfection but the only perfection is imperfection.
Something no being, is seeing.
Everyone blinded by those who are higher.
Depression is spreading like a wild bush fire.
Hatred, cruelty, pain. Controlling the world we try desperately to contain but this game, is playing us.
Our eyes go unseeing.
No one being can heal the world we destroy and steal but if we all join hands then we all have the ability to heal.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Of All Sorts
Poesía- Book One Of My Poetry Series - Throughout life we morph and change depending on the things we see and the experiences we exchange. Poetry has been my refuge whilst taking on the small battlefields of adolescents. So I give to you, the beating h...
