Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2018
So in a splendid self destructive decension this world is in decay. The ones you call broken are the souls who are beautiful beauty has no specific color or ***, labels are for the pretty people on high hills. While looking down from your pedestals at the broken be careful of what you call beauty, real beauty is in soup kitchens, animal shelters, trying to help in there own neighborhood instead of traveling to third world countries with there church group. There real and don't always bend at the knee they will save the world one day, with love beyond this worlds understanding.
Written by
Nella  31/M/mississippi
(31/M/mississippi)   
105
     Fawn and JL Smith
Please log in to view and add comments on poems