What if beauty was on the outside
the sores of the soul visible to all
Would we then, in pursuit of beauty,
work to heal wounds, salve burns,
sew up the things that cut us to the heart

Would we become so used to seeing suffering
that it would be -dare I say it?- acceptable
to attempt to staunch the flow of blood
that trickles from a new wound
Would we become accustomed to knowing
when we’d hurt a friend
by the bruise that appears on her cheek

Would it be acceptable to see one’s own hurt
and work to heal it oneself
Or would we simply invent new ways
to cover it up
the make-up and stockings
of an inside-out generation

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