Just North of Beautiful
Beautiful, I want to be beautiful.
But I always seem to be just off the slightest bit,
Whether it be North or South, East or West,
I am never going to be it.
What is beauty, exactly?
Is it being who society expects you to be,
All tan, blond and pretty,
Like that girl on the cover of Vogue Magazine?
Is it being clean and fresh,
Perfect and down to an art,
Everything even and nice,
Symmetrical and smart?
Or is it something completely new,
Out of sight, out of reach,
But there all the same,
Just hiding like a shell on the beach?
Could it be simply showing your true colors,
As if they would flow
From the tip of an artist’s brush
Painting a picture as you change and grow?
Maybe beauty is just overrated,
And it’s what’s on the inside that counts
At least, that’s what the teacher says to us
But do they hear the jabs and taunts?
Ugly, they call me ugly.
They tell me that I’ll never be good enough.
They sneer and snort when I deny it,
But it’s ok, I can handle it, I’m kind of tough.
Every day, I sit and wait.
For my princess to come and whisk me away,
She will whisper into my ear,
“You are beautiful, just differently. And that’s okay.”
Beautiful, I don’t really mind not being beautiful.
I’m alright just the way I look,
Different in every Way,
I don’t want to be perfect. I want to be me, no matter HOW I look.
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