Confined in a bubble of my own deliberate making,
I realise that the world was never truly beautiful at all.

Piercing hatred lies between the common lines
Of those who never learned to love; singes the edges of the world's
Underlying issues kept hidden by men who never learned
Discipline by the hand of a woman.
Faint glimmers of unaccepted brilliance remains repressed at the
Mere thought of becoming complicated and unusual;
Incinerate the minds that cannot learn to love due to
Short life expectancies and the ever-growing lands of shadow among
Their kind.
Prickling shades of green and orange ****** at the unwanted low-lifes
And proud "healthy eaters"; questions controlling any sudden
Movements made towards what humans deem normality to be.
...And the ongoing inquisitions of both and either sides of the Earth's
Lost children and the preachers of Good News; wars controlling the
Climates of our wellbeings and identities for the sole information
Of so-called society.

All of these exhibits obvious, all overused in many ways by many
Other bubble-makers like me.

I fear we shall too be pierced one day.