The mind catches what the eyes see,
Yet comprehending to what laid upon our sight is not easy,
For the illusion of our mind twirls the fabric of facts,
That made us question on how true is life?
We march forward yet our pasts shape our present,
Would not history to sew our future together?
I contemplate on the meaning on what it means to be golden,
To shine like the glistering rays of the heaven,
Where all be astounded by its sheer beauty,
But could never actually keep the light in their pockets.
How saddened am I by the poignant truth,
That we disguise ourselves to impress,
That it's been the tradition to lie so as to awe others,
And unfortunately I'm tied down to this trend,
For being different means we are outcasts.
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