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Beauty.

I can't stop to notice
How beautiful the women
That surround me are!

Look at the dresses
And the glares,
And the lip shades,
And the flowing cloth
With texture so soft,
As if they never
Existed without,

Look at the surroundings
In which they merge
Appearing no lesser than
Nature's sculpture,
So pure and naïve
Yet filled with chives,

I often get stuck
On images so bright,
How come it is for beauty
That we strive?
To achieve and own it
Like a materialistic pleasure,
Designed to fulfill
Our egoistic treasures.

The notion of getting noticed,
A deadly yet an attractive one,
Has misled us into believing
That otherwise we would be invisible.

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