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Feb 2015
As I walk in a brave, lonesome
pattern,
two devils stare right at my
noticeable presence.
Both look,
they laugh,
smiling as if to burst into
rude, giggling pleasure.
I am gone,
moving on like a bird.
At the destination
I am questioned by a known soul.
She asks, "What happened?"
"Do you have allergies?"
I shrug, and just say
as honest as I can,
"I broke out.
It's something I do."
My face is not clear,
but my head is of all who look
and feel disgusted with my acne.
Beauty Queens should have no
obligation for lack of weight,
long hair,
and clear skin.
I don't have clear skin.
I am broken out and beautiful as can be.
This surface covers none of my
bravery, compassion, and dignity.
You don't have to call me beautiful.
I already do that.
The devils rudely stare and laugh.
The stranger  cares and wonders.
I carry persistence and strength.
I know I am beautiful.
I am in no hurry for anything to clear up.
Nor the sky,
nor my face.
I hide none of my beauty.
People are staring at my breakouts. Heck, I do not care I know I am beautiful.
Luna Casablanca
Written by
Luna Casablanca
361
   AJ
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