Sometimes,
I allow myself to pause
And revel in the wonders of the world-
Natural beauty that isn't
What it usually is,
Or what its supposed to be;
Instead, it is immersed
In the imperfection of humanity,
The lines in between lines.

The dying voice of the broken
Are scattered among us
As echoes;
Like the sun melting in the West,
Or ashes carried by the wind.

Do you not see the simple
Irony
Everyone has caused themselves?
The perfect wonders of the world
Are scarred by the
Flaws
Which put it together.