Everything Isn't Pretty

Short Poem

We shape, cut, wash
Form our bodies, our words
Into pretty objects

We hide, burn, throw out
Put ugly away
Flow down the drain
Let the earth swallow it

And still it comes back

It's okay
The dirt swirls
The leaves decompose
And the wind puts the remains
In random places
Humans keep sorting

We need the air
The clean
The forgiveness
Of second chances
Of starting over
Of becoming someone else