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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Carissimi · 70-79, F
Your words capture this so well. I wonder who those deeper souls really are. Perhaps, even they will never know. Deep thinking can be painful.