There’s beauty in imperfection.

No one is ever interested in the weird, the eerie, the unpopular voice.

Their chaotic energies, so wild and infused with the riches colours.

Pain felt reds that explode with passion and desire, berry purples the darker the sweeter.

How trippy it must feel when those colours flip and turn, mutating into brights and darks with hypnotic intent.

the greens, the yellows, the blues and the pinks. Imperfections flutter, and whirls on a wimp.

How dare you not try to pretend, you can handle the beauty that these imperfects been carrying within.

They would love our energies and the allure it brings.

The highs and lows help paint a pretty picture, but when the scale tips the canvas rips, stripping away the oil painted depiction.