Purest Souls


I grew up and down

in an unstable wonderland.


Pale arms outreach to touch the moon,

but my feet and soul root me

to where I stand.


Surrounded by unconventional

and unusual beauty.


I become part of it,

and embrace the little

scars on my legs.


To deny my purest essence

would be an unforgivable sin.


Putting on a mask

to be someone else,

is only suppressing your soul.


And Oh, the soul will rage.


Screaming, clawing

it will break through the facade

only to reveal the truth.


But the truth,

it is a thing of beauty.


Accepting this gift,

proves the strength of my soul.


Now I am surrounded

by the truly beautiful

realness of pure people.


Souls that require

no filter.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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