Beauty is perpetually imperative to your existence.
You pride thyself on the fact that you can view even the ugliest things as beautiful and groundbreaking,
Every wilted flower has thrown new seeds,
Every broken promise leads new beginnings,
A new chapter to another story,
Each and every whisper about yourself you pretend not to hear.
You pretend to be complacent, to sit quietly still until your years here are over.
You pretend to be bold, and have confidence, to shake the shell of the insecure you off until you reach home
Your shell has gotten used to the cold, when you show it no light.
Your fake optimism shines no light greater than the moons by the help of the sun.