There exists a monster
Called The Jeweler.
Everything she sees has
A price tag attached
With a superficial value
Stamped on.
The lenses placed over her
Since the day she was born
Have corrupted all purity.
Forever complimented on
Appearances and mocked for thought,
She believes herself to be
Perfectly normal
Judging every living creature
For beauty and value.
Stars in the sky are meaningless
Like the grades from school,
She only wants materials
For improving her station.
From the boy down the street
To the Prada bag in hand,
Nothing worthwhile is free.
The only pleasure she knows
Is derived from an illusion
Of being a princess.
She is cold and calculating,
Countless crushed hearts
Have been left behind her
And she smiles fondly
At every tear she extracted.
Tragedy is her destiny
Do we blame the product
Or the ****** up society
Producing more daily?
The disheartening truth is
She The Jeweler exists
Inside of everyone of us
From you to me and beyond.
So who the **** do we lay
The blame on?
The society or the product?
The society or the product?
******* answer me!