A Waste of Art
When art meets freedom
an unusual misunderstanding thrives:
no glory can come from the altered body,
nor health is found from constant deception;
the offspring is observed by nature,
a paradox drawn by its own behavior;
a strange gaze unfolds
from the energy of a hidden truth;
who can name one self as superior in this world?
A quality that slays the art;
the heart is shy, concealing its shame
and nature claims, “what a waste of self”.
