Beauty is present but the soul isn't.
You speak with golden specks on your tongue.
You walk with the grace of doves.
Your laugh is like the morning sun.
But yet you still fall short where love doesn't manage.
You quiver to the thought of happiness and cringe at the sight of laughter.
They all scream
"you're a diamond in the rough."
But what is jelewry when it's not sought after and what is art when it's admired by all but one?
You're aware of the power you carry, the beauty you conceal.
The weapons your heart bares and the pain running through your veins.
They painted you a mural but they failed to read the description -
" commended by all, tamed by none."