I love the stars, they're so beautiful...but why?
No reason. They just are. But they'll never know the beauty they hold.
They'll never know their prepossessing origin.
They're like butterflies. Never aware of their appeal.
They're like people.
Except people see, their beauty. People see, their charm, and their grandeur.
They just don't believe it.
And that's what makes it sad.
Because no matter what we do, we'll never be perfect. We'll never look how we want or be how we want or act how we want.
We should be fine with that.
But we're not.
And that's why the world is so messed up.
Okay this one was better I am extremely fond of it and forever will be.
YOU ARE READING
Hiraeth
PoetryJust my thoughts I put down on paper, something easier to understand. Though some of them, might not be that understandable. Hiraeth- a homesickness for home to which you can not return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the...
