Painted faces
Painted skin
Pierced… everything
All in a race to be
Of the hipocracy of reverse conformity
There is something else
Something sinister
A celebration of
The anti
Of the mediocre
Looking up to “stars”
Even as we rip them down
There is a hatred
Of all things beautiful
And great.
True talent does not sell
True beauty is forced to peddle underwear and sex
the EVERYMAN is victorious
The angels  are not to be trusted.

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