The mirror only manifests the illusory of the shell for it cannot interpret.
I pray I never see the travesty of my sister's transfigured by fads
I cannot will myself to cling to society's need of conformity.
I am always chilled and chained to the carcass of life's regrets.
It seems as though I am submerged in the fabrication of beauty-
Tied by the throat to the whole "American Dream" Bullshit.
And yet, it seems each day another falls from middle class.
And yet, it seems each day another ugly child is chosen last-
I am still humbled by the act of soldier's and their arms,
Their willingness to fight for this diseased dream if only for tomorrow,
I will not tread deeply in this subject for I admit I know little.
But have we not come into perceptible existence welding camera's,
I proclaim beauty alone does not rest in injections and surgery,
But in the hearts of those destined to sustain life, and transcend it-
How is it in this late world our role models are junkies and prevaricators?
I do not wish to die alone but I cannot concede to today's concern.
I conclude I would be a happier hermit than jaded accomplice
My words are whispers in a crowded room, and yet I cannot help but advocate;
Therefore, today I become the bull.
