What is beauty, <br />but a word to an end, <br />does it describe oneself, <br />so, <br />discreetly. <br /> <br />Does it prove a point, <br />securing the ideals, <br />of someone who, <br />pictures things, <br />neatly. <br /> <br />Does it mean, <br />all that much, <br />when we feel, <br />we've lost touch, <br />in this world, <br />that does end, <br />so, <br />completely. <br /> <br />And in what way, <br />is it important to the day, <br />we find our love, <br />our life, <br />our freedom. <br /> <br />Does the word lose it's measure, <br />when you've found a, <br />not-so-pretty, <br />treasure, <br />that you keep in your pocket, <br />all the time. <br /> <br />Is the word, <br />so important, <br />that it deserves it's own holiday, <br />and song with a rhythm, <br />and a rhyme. <br /> <br />What is beauty, <br />but a word, <br />in the end, <br />with no solitude, <br />or rights, <br />or freedom, <br />it's sits on a shelf, <br />alone with its, <br />narcissistic self, <br />and does die, <br />in due time.<br /><br />Sandra jacks<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/beauty-117/
