unreality

nothing about perfection is as beautiful as being real

 

and in spite of expectations, the mask is not more beautiful than the face

 

there's a new obsession with the manufactured over the natural

 

to edit out one's individuality in order to create the person they don't really want to be

 

but we're as far away as ever from an ideal where not everything has to be ideal

 

it all relies on those who resist the conformity, if they can inspire just one person to do the same

 

should there be a day we can let the mask fall to see what lies underneath

 

may it show who we really are

 

and set the world free

This poem is about: 
Our world

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