She dresses like a widow, they say.
She speaks like a boy, they say.
She walks like a man, they say.

Hid myself till i became my own shadow.

Pressured by the standards of beauty set by the society.
Wear a dress, they say
Grow your hair, they say
Walk ****, they say
Shave your legs, they say

Kept shelter in the comfort of my shadow.
Constantly reminded by my reflection
that i was not worthy
not worthy to be called BEAUTIFUL.

BEAUTIFUL, a word that never existed in my vocabulary.

But what is beauty?
Is my beauty measured by the length of my hair?
by how straight my teeth are?
by the color of my skin?
by the sharpness of my nose?
Or by the shape of my body?

Blinded, blinded by the illusion society created
Convinced that I, i was not worthy enough
to be associated with BEAUTY.

Never knew that her beauty is beyond all measures
Her beauty is her being.
Her beauty is mental.
Her beauty is spiritual.
Her beauty is strength, power and believe.

What is it that makes you think you can tell me what MY BEAUTY is?

I see beauty in the blood I bleed
I see beauty in my weaknesses and strengths
I see beauty in the words that I speak
I see beauty in the tears I shed
I see beauty in what I write

My aura is beautiful.