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For me, everyone can be beautiful
It really all depends on them
And if you judge yourself
By means of eyes which do not
Belong to you, you're doing life incorrectly
Beautiful people are the honest ones
They are unapologetic
They love themselves and we know it
I'm talking about true love here
Not fake eye lashes and fancy cars
I'm talking about those who use
Their imperfections to build
Those who say **** yeah, that's me
When others just look away
People who accept what they can't change
The people who know that once in a while
People NEED to be offended by
What they say or think or act on
You're bat **** crazy if you try to
Get it all correct or all copacetic
You'll fall very short "pleasing" others
Beautiful people just are
Beautiful people are rare
Picking up a camera, does not
Make you a photographer, my friend
Typing away makes you no writer
Buying quality painting supplies
Does not mean you can claim
Being an exquisite painter of art
No my friend, you must crawl first
You must cry, and ache, and suffer
Before you can begin understanding
The task required to say you have
Crossed the line from rodent to artist
It is a struggle before the gravy
People can do it for years
Yet be so far away from true art
Someone can pick up a pencil
And immediately soak into it
Becoming the artist comes from
Your guts, your sleep, your **** for life
Not what you can tell someone
In conversation, or show via the internet
It comes from far more
Many people achieve it,
The few who have may not even know it
****, I know a homeless man who
Cleans windows in a parking lot
Who doesn't accept money without working
Who is more of an artist
Than half the population trying to create
Just don't 'em like they used to
Everyone cares too much, nobody just lives it
I dreamt of you once more
And I was young and you were old
There was much anger in the clouds
That rested above the park
Where we sat with others
Believing this was life, as real as can be
I was confused and happy and sad
A dream within a dream, I thought
My hair was wild, and you grew old
I could barely walk, I might've been drunk
I don't remember the park or place
It was green all around, and had a small shelf
You were not you and I was not myself
But we were exactly who we needed to be
All in a dream within a dream
There should always be
A place in your mind
That disagrees with its counterpart
The outcome of this
Should be your essence
Looking back at our time together
There was never a start date
Nothing that I remember that
Marked when it all became real
It sort of just happened week after week
No asking permission or for an answer
We just knew this was something
It took both of us away from life I guess
Now we are here together still
No anniversaries, no magic first date
And those times when it's all about to end
Fighting like wolves, killing each other
It doesn't end there, the battle dies
And all we have left is a friendship
Then some really, really good ***
There's something wrong with the world
It's filled to the brim with injustice
People on the streets decaying
While the others bathe in champagne
Walking by the homeless or poor
Stabs a knife deep into my back
Do I provide for my own family?
Or do I give away what others can't have?
I assume it falls upon perspective
Perspective really has a full plate does it
And too much responsibility these days
There is so much I worry about
And so much that I dislike
It's only one action, with millions
Of different ways out
And my anxiety sits there laughing
My anger plays a game of chess
At the bar is my apathy
Fools who talk so much of progress
But never move more than two steps
The She's of the world like concrete
Hoping that their prince appears
From the heavens, without ever
Being a princess to begin with
Each month I move slower
But I still have the good fight
Hidden away where they can't find it
I see them with their flashlights
Looking and searching
But it lives only inside me
And my good fight continues
So long as I walk through this fire
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