Pretty people are petty.
Isolated individuals
Are either
Insane
Intellectual
or both.
We're all marred up beyond recognition.
Perfection isn't an option,
Therefore neither is peace.
We're all floating down
A swirling stream
Filled with insecurity and scrutiny
Looking for something
Anything
More.
We're coming up empty-handed
left only with rays of the sun,
Billowing trees in the teasing wind
And hands that hold nothing but
Loneliness and apathy.


We're all insane.