We are mesmerized by the beauty of others. How confident, elegant, serene, kind, and humanely they are.

People who we wish to be. People who has the things we want to have. People who achieves goals we only dream of.

Then, we fall in love. Not with them, but with their facade. 

The charade they put up. The walls they created and designed so it is only what we see.

We look at them and aspire to be creatures with exceptional talents; in reality, we are wishing to be hollow walls with intricate designs as a cover up.

Inside it, lies a war zone. With foul odor, it's decaying thoughts and feces that resembles criticisms gather.

But I would like to include a microscopic flower. A little tiny bit that represents one's true self.

It is not seen by the naked eye, not easily touched, and almost known by mankind; but it is there, growing. With the deaths as it's fertilizer.

It will bloom, someday, once the walls are down. Once it touches sunlight. People will see the birth of strength, will, and faith.

Let's strive to be that microscopic flower, rather than the shallow walls that we see.