In Her Eyes

If there was a perfect
I'd show her the world defected

I'd show her the world not rounded
Jagged and treacherous not round
With dirty forests, losing dirty leaves
set to plummet to the unforgiving ground
currents blowing hard
and cold rain piercing her ivory face, like glass

She would see the chaotic beauty in this world
and would long to caress
it's bumps and edges
Even if it would do her harm, it would now be her own
Then she would see the dark truths
of repulsive world she loves

How the inhabitants, the ones she envies and hates
How they don't recognize don't realize
the beauty of variance
They squabble helter skelter

Burning the magnificence, she just found
all for the hypocritical satisfaction
from perfection
it's not perfect, but it beautiful
Well at least that's what she thought
as the tears of the people drop, and beauty falls
Soon enough perfection will rise
completely opposite to the tears, falling from her eyes itself

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