Those eyes on the corridor,
Or the number under your smiles,
On pages and papers will never really help,
The bills between your diaries,
Fortunes to be someone you're not,
Won't make you who you are,
Head to toe, we're all the same,
Sometimes we find it hard to believe,
But in moments of darkness,
When there is nothing but voice,
Of your thoughts,
Of who you are and all you want to be,
Why do we feel belonged?
When there are no faces?
Or numbers to remind us of atrocities,
We feel belonged and we smile,
With no eyes to see,
Thats when we are all beautiful,
In moments of darkness,
When we open ourselfs,
With no one to see, but to hear,
To feel and to belong.
We're beautiful.
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