You find beauty in the ugly things
Oscar Wilde claims, thus you are cultivated
I was a puppet; now without ties or strings
Take the bag of the masses off your head, refrain from being suffocated
Scratch beneath the surface
Find the morality of man
You'll find joy, I promise, don't be nervous
Open up your peripheries and scan
Dictate your own opinion
Dodge the barrage of malice
Stand on your metaphoric pedestal and demand dominion
Open up your myopicy and wane all of the callouses
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