A body for everybody,
The ideal face and skin,
The eyes of everybody,
Blue green brown souls within.
My facets are all but endless,
My heart is all but sure,
Your much the same as I am
Everybody's nobody pure.
The perfection of appearance,
Entwined with mind degraded,
Forms an apt utopia,
Where all pious hope hath faded.
Chained are we then to tragedy,
To laugh at the world and it's flaws,
While crime and murderous impiety,
Take courage, not open our doors.
But hark you weary travellers,
Not all is lost to disgrace,
A free mind is it's own beauty,
Permeating all souls and all face.
In thought then lies our salvation,
In thought then lies our sin,
Every ocean therefore is shallow;
Perfect flaws lie always therein.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.