Innovators develop creature’s comfort
Yet no mortal can physically go out of itself
Like bare bodies stripping off its clothes
In deed, ghosted eyes would never have closed.
I wish the Creator was kind on my kind
So we can jump off into any flesh we find
We are monkeys, and not spirits being
Don’t blame us for dying over such a thing.
The Creator’s support carries weight
But I guess He had ran through all the stakes
Knowing that I am so beautiful
Just the way I am…. not beautiful.