For the old soul

Art is beauty. Beauty is soul.  
 Seoul is a place in South Korea.  
Cryptic the idea that destiny is above  
 Arbitrary accusations accosting every lucid expressive minute sucking the life out of each moment in a push to philosophise productivity
Life is perfect  
even when each moment  
is perfectly disguised as hell.  
Push. Fall. Rebel.  
That's the only way to shine  
Turn fractures into flaws  
Lesions into lessons  
Blessed be introspection, respect and vision  
Anticipations aimed at the tendons  
Dissolve dilute dedicated symphonies with a taste for structure fires  
Strung up waiting for embrace  
Evidence that I've left something to this place  
More than a face placed with misplaced faith.