stuck in our throats.
Chasing us everywhere we go.
Stuck on us,
Like a cockroach,
We try to escape,
away from the horrifying beautiful.
made for harassment.
Like a shadow.
Used in wrong terms.
Has set a standard for our poor souls,
desperately the unsureness fill our veins.
Poisoning the lost souls of tomorrow.
A lovely word,
The sense of true beauty never reaches the screen.
Hidden from the outside world,
while we try to embrace the false dignity.
The false mentality sets a double standard,
laughs at us right in the face.
Thinking we’re smart,
It can’t be characterised,
or set in motion.
There’s no description,
A dream that never comes true.
Only one correct answer;
the beauty is within,
it reaches beneath the eye,
it casts only a glimpse in the mirror of our souls.