The World
In this world,
clams make pearls,
it's a pain,
for human gain,
its painful enough
to make one without bluff.
but no no,
we have to see purity,
maturity full round flawless ones,
brown, mishaped aint the shape
and pain is already the gain,
all white,
seem to be the only ones that is alright,
but human materialism, keeps us blind from seeing,
that its all brown,
from a grain of sand,
comes that big beautiful lushes pearl in your hand,
Natures course, will take its way,
Humans always trying to pave the way,
This poem is about:
Our world