By Lee
Date: 17 December 1998

Unaware and Too Lazy to Toil

His smooth skin
Leaping from across the way
Makes me close my eyes 
To avoid temptation.
The maturity of his muscles 
Says nothing to what he has developed
Inside.
There, within his inner body,
A field has yet to be cultivated.
The soil is dry, parched by too much heat.
Neglected.
Withering plants litter the vast landscape
Of intelligence.
Time gave me the chance to see this
Image of ugliness.
His facade of the bountiful crop of 
Beauty will only disintegrate with each
Lonely season.
Deep within the soil, the soul,
Is where life begins, and where he 
Should have started.
He replaced a natural look with something 
Artificial.
No one lives long on the surface.
Within him, a famine is approaching.
If only he noticied the emptiness growling
Across his wasted figure.