The world is a beautiful place,
Yet it seems most of the world forgets.
Self absorbed and so ordinary it hurts,
They are denying the ugly and their only edge.
Force beautiful sunsets upon us,
Looking up, blinded by the brightness.
Creating beautiful lyrical poems,
Rhyming and making you shed a tear.
But I am always looking down,
Call me Valjean.
Textures, dirt, scratches, rust, decay, death
Thats the real beauty.
Never look up,
You just might lose the power to see the beauty beneath you.
