Polished

Everyone longs to be the person they see,

On the outside so clean & polished;

Even on their last day.

 

The rain could wash it all away,

Pour down & melt the vision to its dismay;

Still would you see, all along what you want to see?

 

Imagine the world,

The people they stare back at you;

Are they the idea of your perfection?

 

Consumed by the thoughts,

The seconds turn into stepping back;

You can see their faces.

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