forte

Surely we are not spinning aimless
Volatile beings too complex to ascertain
Surely our hands have shaped the ages
Fertile minds enamored by what we attain

Surely our imperfections are exaggerated
Fed on shapes and weight and sizes
Surely we let ourselves be defeated
Broken and enslaved by our vices

Surely peace is not a lost cause
Forgiveness to soothe the malady
Surely the grit outlives the gloss
Beneath our fear lies the key

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