Weightless

The weight lies in the mind

Not the body

Like a gray storm thundering across

Disrupting everything in its path

The storm inside

The brain thinks the body imperfect

But it cruelly plays tricks on itself

A magician

It imagines a pretend reality

As the eyes scour for these make-believe imperfections

As if finding treasure on the island

But the X is an illusion

A trap

It makes comparison to others

Wishing it were others

Trying to appear like others

Still

At what price must the brain suffer

Must the body suffer

Must the very being suffer

Hope

We are all people

We are all different

But perfect no matter the body type

Inspire

Clear the mind

Rest the body

Then will your mind, detached from the pressure, feel so...

Weightless