Beauty, a desired trait.
A temporary facade over the soul...

I would have rather died than to have been gay.
At least that what I used to think...

A one-in-a-million chance
And with eight billion people...

Your mouth, though the smile is pretty and kind,
Spins nothing but webs of possible lies...

In solitude I lay, the ticking clock betrays
A lone companion on this eve so cold...

Amidst life’s chaos, my quest unfolds to find
A sanctuary, a temple, a place I can call home...