Fools are
Those girls who are a 
master-piece
But somehow imprison themselves
 behind museum glasses
And boards that read 
“no photography”.

Those women who think they owe 
the world high cheek bones and 
rose eyes
And remain a mere reflection, 
thoughtless, dreamless

Those who are pretty like the 
moon in the sky
Yet two faced, 
wax and wane every
 fifteenth night

Heroes are 
Those who listen
In a world that s learnt only
 to speak
Those with clear intentions,
 clear heart and mind
Those that reach for the stars
And are stars themselves.