Only the blind are ugly?
But yet are the unfortunate that we may laugh at.
They have no judgment of looks, or of the face.
And the ones that can't speak may not have a say.
They cannot hear of the torture and pain. The rain that brings on the dying world.
And though you can't touch I know you can feel.
If you must stay here, rapped in your sorrow rather than
take the serenity that you have been given, I know that love is not in you.
For I have seen what was left of the dirty bodies and broken souls.
The dark spaces, cramped rooms, and oozing walls.
You don't want to see it.
So I beg you, open your eyes. There is far more than you could want,
more than what you've given yourself.