Beauty insists on making every impression on me.
Rubbing against my tongue like gravel in my cereal bowl.
Its cotton appearance and inviting flow of letters tells me it's real.
It sits inside of my stomach, and crawls through my pockets.
It hides in the stitching of my pants, and in between my toes.
Underneath my ears, sitting on my neck.
The beauty will never leave.
Everything is beautiful.
About Me.
- Emma Cherry
- In a yellow sumbarine, Liechtenstein
- We must blend into the choir Sing as static with the whole. We must memorize nine numbers and Deny we have a soul. And in this endless race for property and Privilege to be won. We must run, we must run, we must run.
