She hates her physique,
Never knowing what she will ever be.

She looks in the mirror
With horror.

She is disgusted by her looks and thinks herself can never be trusted.

For she believes value,
Relies of what people think of you.

We live in a society with a wrong mentality,

In which we deny to look farther than the layer of skin,

For why we commit so much sin.

We say beauty
Is an ethnicity.

It depends on the color of our lens.

It relies on what really is just lies.

For truth,
Is found in another booth.

A chest does not contain its treasure on the outside,
Rather it guards it on the inside.

A book doesnt contain its tales on the shells,
They lie within its cells.

This girl is a treasureful chest, a riveting book, a beautiful human being.

Yet she doesnt believe so.

She says stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me and she is right.

Words dont hurt her, they **** her. They tear her soul apart, leaving an open wound which just keeps bleeding and bleeding because no one is willing to cure.

You see, we worry of what people might think of us, we trust others before we trust ourselves.

We look blindly in the mirror not looking farther than our own skin, instead we listen what others say about us.

We are made of beauty, covered by what we know as skin.

But most of us cant see that
Most of us are blind,
Followed by the critiques that others say.

With what we sadly determine beauty.
And what we use to determine ourselves.