You are not blind to the fact that you have not been lucky. I can see it too, and what the world has done to you is not kind. Salt rivers have flowed in origin from you, used your burning cheeks as banks, and surged away without a word of thanks.
Do not shrink back, because your eyes that have cried rivers have also seen ten-thousand sights on a thousand different nights and been unafraid, and when they were, your heart was brave enough for them both.
Some part of you has always known that your beauty would not simply emerge by chance; that it would have to lie under the mountain that’s on your mind, crushed into the gem that some newly lucky person will inevitably find.
.