Beauty is pain,
The old refrain,
For vanity has your conscience slain.
Why suffer to get what you’ve already got?
By the looks of it you’ve got a lot.
Why pine for what is already a possession?
And tug out slowly the untruthful confession.
Why strive for what you’ve already earned?
Why desire something already yearned?
For the beauty within is confined to no walls,
A prisoner within no halls.
Beauty is honest,
Beauty is right,
Beauty is seeing the light.
Beauty is not pain at all,
Just happiness after the fall.