Who decides what beauty is?
A trend-setting, shallow puff of smoke?
Here today, gone tomorrow narrow thinking?
Taking with them what ideal supposedly is
As volumes of Truth go unread by the self-appointed.

Judges are too often bought, paid for by industries.

Each ones true beauty is purposely hidden.
For corruption is a filthy film over minds,
While truth is purity, bright and honest.
Rub fists into blighted spheres to clean them, then
Go, let your mind's eye begin to see more clearly.