Just above a waistband
sits a most peculiar thing.
The most common human blemish
whose lauds we oft forget to sing.
Some are small and dainty,
pushed neatly in like a dimple
in the desert of skin.
Others hemorrhage outward,
squishy and pale,
the extra flesh bloated
by strange and unnamed
****** juices.
Often adorned with a jewel or a stone,
the awkward interruption
of the otherwise plain torso
is unconsciously celebrated,
for it serves us all
a greater purpose.
Reminding each person
from where he came.
The living proof that we are all connected,
at one point or another,
to someone else.
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 8:27 PM UTC
Just above a waistband
sits a most peculiar thing.
The most common human blemish
whose lauds we oft forget to sing.
Some are small and dainty,
pushed neatly in like a dimple
in the desert of skin.
Others hemorrhage outward,
squishy and pale,
the extra flesh bloated
by strange and unnamed
****** juices.
Often adorned with a jewel or a stone,
the awkward interruption
of the otherwise plain torso
is unconsciously celebrated,
for it serves us all
a greater purpose.
Reminding each person
from where he came.
The living proof that we are all connected,
at one point or another,
to someone else.