I don't know if you think things through
Before saying them
If you hear your thoughts
Before they exit your mouth
I don't know if you consider your words compliment
Or flattery
But noting that I am too pretty
To hide behind paper and pen
Does not feel worthy of a thank you
I have been taught
To value emotional intelligence over beauty
Value conversation over vanity
Would rather get lost in thought than in eyes
I do not choose based on appearance
And you do not get to decide
Which form of release I get to use
To rid myself of demons
I wonder if you would still find me attractive
If you saw every story buried inside of me
If you saw every line burned onto the pores of my tongue
Every tooth in my mouth that should be crooked
My pain is not beautiful
Therefore I have to find a way
To make it close to it
To make it as appealing as possible
I wonder
What kind of profession you would choose for a girl like me
Maybe waitress
Or homemaker
God forbid it's something that demands anything but smiles
If trauma had a face
Mine would be carbon copy
Would be ugly
So do not tell me
That my looks overpower my passion
That words would read meaningless coming from my lips
Your ignorance is not suited for someone like me
Someone who writes with fire in their fingers
And blood between their lips
You are not meant for someone as deeply rooted as this
The strength of my voice does not depend
On the body it comes out of
Its worth is not determined
By beauty
And I
Am not determined
By it either.