The beauty is gone,
When there’s more makeup than flesh,
And it dies when showing skin,
Transcends being pretty.
When the lip gloss shines brighter than your eyes,
The word human is erased from your presence,
And when you wear powder as a mask,
Souls drain from polished fingers.
If the name of your bag,
Is more valuable than your own,
Or if the logo on your shirt says more than your words,
You need to wake up.
Finally, when everyone is a string, wrapped around your finger,
And there’s one strand, loose’d from all the others,
Know that that one strand,
Is me.
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