Shells are pretty too.
Empty as they are.
Glistening under the rays of the gracing sun.
Shall I say, scorching sun.
It is often the empty heart,
Full of malice and shame.
Discontent and indecisive.
It is often the heavy soul,
Searching with no scent to acknowledge.
Shells are mesmerising too,
Beheld by those unknowing.
What once laid within,
More precious than what we see on the shore.
Often times than not, this is found on human soil.
More often than not, what is found appealing to the eye.
Is it with displeasure,
That what was once pearls, more precious than the shell,
Is what we find among crowds.
What we live with.
What we want.
Shallow.
Hollow.
Empty.
But enticing.
If only we knew.
There is more,
There was more.
©️ mirthyKayla
