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.
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