Creative
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Deeper still

In a world where depth is scarce, they roam,
Shallow souls, like pebbles, barely known.
With mirrors as friends, in selfies they prance,
Surface-level delights, no depth to enhance.

Their conversations as shallow as a stream,
Substance a myth, like a far-off dream.
In the shallows, they wade, never to dive,
Content with the surface, where shadows survive.

Their minds, a puddle, not an ocean vast,
Shallow waters, where intellect can't last.
Reflections matter more than what's within,
A world of shallowness, where they begin.

In the shallows, they paddle, oblivious and vain,
Missing life's depths, forever in disdain.
So, let them skim the surface, where they thrive,
In the shallows they dance, where shallowness thrives.
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When you try to name what you don't understand, you become no different than the shallows.... But you wrote your disdain, just don't make it about other people.
MrMortal · 41-45, M
@thewindupbirdchronicles In the dance with words, depths elude, yet in disdain, a mirror is found. Not a judgment of others, merely echoes of my own ground, and a beckoning for inspiring change.