You were never meant to be a
pretty girl.

The adults always said
you were so beautiful as a baby,
had such a natural smile,
had such clear skin,
[what happened?]

You could have been
Beautiful,
but you spurned
Beauty.
Gave her the *******
didn't even try to tame fingers
that ripped yourself apart.

In the end
the adults were right.

There came a day
when you looked at yourself -
really looked,
surveyed the damage
and suddenly
you Cared.

You wanted to slink back to
Beauty,
beg for her forgiveness.

But it's not so easy
and it's not so simple.
You never had the
discipline,
never had the
follow through,
always did have

commitment issues.

So you made a choice.
If you couldn't have
Beauty
you would court
her opposite.

These days you
give the ******* to
Beauty
every time you
dare to look good
while baring your wounds, your scars
like tattoos,
like fine works of art.

These days you
make offerings to
The Grotesque
with your blade
and your blood
and your bits of skin and nails.

And Beauty's opposite
takes them all,
and Beauty's opposite
is easy to please
and

you were never meant to be a
pretty girl.