The soul danced and rejoiced on the melancholic music of its failure all alone in its jungle city and cried over the moon. It counted the stars, hoping someday all of it would be alright but then all the hopes were shattered as the nostalgic feeling...
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Beautiful beautiful beautiful Who is the most beautiful among all The one who has to cut off her hair That she grew with care and love For she doesn't want to be judged. Or The one with the most attractive figure Who starves herself To match the trend of the sleek waists The one who's the cream skinned Who's skin is covered and suffocated By a piece to cloth 'Coz she's Restricted to feel the sun. Or The one who silently bears all the pain Behind the closed doors 'Coz the hair on her skin Is not the thing to be appreciated or shown. The one who has to wear those heels To actually stand in society 'Coz the height she posses is not so great. Or The one who has to dip her face in makeup For she doesn't want to be labelled as "The old-fashioned chick" Sometimes it feels so strange That how society has been blinded By the fake standards of outer state For it actually cares Only about what the mirror says.
