What brute force alienates the giver

Yet the butterfly sweetly flutters

And the bomb fragments memories

But the family unites alone

The famished boy clutches a knife for a meal

But another trades a meal for society.

A smile of joy?

Or a mask?

Miles away lies a paralysed body,

Insoluble are the remnants of their last cigarette

As their lips form a whisper, ‘Please, forgive me’

Their tears grow thick and vicious.

The pin-prick which calls for a yelp from one

Is another’s chance for being

As they work without tire or support

Their efforts amount to infinity,

Yet result to none

And one can’t help but notice

The perfect incongruities

An invisible divide

The shield without protection

My hero?

My enemy.

I know it’s so superficial and conformist to aspire to be pretty, but I just can’t help it. Whatever it is that causes us to hope for such things - whether it be attention, self-confidence, for the sake of relationships or for other reasons, is irrelevant.

And in regards to self-confidence - why must it depend on others? One would assume that the very word ‘self’ indicates a self-sufficient object, yet that couldn’t be further from the truth. I can’t speak for all of mankind, but seeing as we are all one in the same I guess I know what I’m talking about to an extent. I don’t feel pretty unless someone tells me that I am. I don’t feel like I’m intelligent or worthwhile unless someone points it out. I don’t feel like a being with depth and character unless somebody acknowledges my virtues.

And I don’t understand why that’s the case. The laws of logic would suggest otherwise. I don’t want to judge my character on such a superficial value, nor do I want my reflection on myself to be dependant on another individual’s view. I don’t know how to confront the issue because I feel like whatever I do will never change a thing - it can be reduced to the mechanics of human kind and it’s something far too big for me, a mere singular entity, to even visualise.