This is a poem I wrote after I got called beautiful for the first time by a guy outside of my family - I was so confused, and what's even funnier, I was furious. But how do you tell that to someone who's just trying to be nice? I have no clue 0.o I laugh looking back at it, though there is some insight in it. Insight as to what I write when I'm blazing mad... :P
I've been called beautiful, but never by my mirror - who lies?
If beauty is in the beholders eye, then who is it my mirror mocks?
Is beauty all the others see, is it truly what defines the real me?
I've never had to guess before - does beauty linger at my door?
Or does she in her wisdom stay across the street, clearly at bay?
Beauty is in the beholders Soul, why has this never been seen before?
Why do children with their barbies play, and wrestle with beauty both night and day?
Why does no one see - beauty is the biggest curse shoved inside a blessing?
As life goes on, as the river flows, oh beauty, why do you flee?
You take the curse, you take the blessing, and leave - just - me?
Beauty, do I hate thee, or beauty, do I love thee?
I suppose it matters not, for in the mirror I don't behold thee!
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