They ink our image
The device of our identity is unclear
The avidity to be divine
I can only be contrite
My image is manifest
Thier own is obscure
Manikin mankind
Lavishly dressed in lies
A disguise to cover thier insecurities
They see beautiful
I see a beautiful way to cry
Acceptance
Not knowing its been neglected
Justified by thier fabrication of real
Why look through the eyes of plastic
Your image is ideal
You just have to look for it
Stop being fake
Try being real.
~yours truly~
salvador bishop.
