In the eye of the beholder, flawed perfection is perfectly flawed
The tainted panes of the soul's window obscures the view
Distorts reality, till fiction seems real, and the non-existent exist
Shades of grey become black, black becomes white, superficial has substance
Transient adoration of ephemeral manifestations of flesh
Misguided adulation for the cosmetic, discarding the visceral
Content with the shallow exterior put forth on parade
To the beholder words become platitudes, cherished by the unenlightened beholden
Words with the substance of fall leaves, whisked away in the wind, here then gone
Carrying the weight of an anvil, grounded in false reality, held in high regard
Be weary of the beholder, their tongues hold secrets
Their minds eye speaks the truth of the windows of their souls
Souls as blackened as the night sky on a moonless, starless night
Beauty, fool, is in the eye of the beholder
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