Take off the mask
It hinders your task
Show yourself
For that's what
Are you!
Ok!
Your mask has just
Illusions
That will die with you
Why to have complexity?
When you can endure
Essential worldly simplicity!
O people!

You would not expect
A person to inspect
The apple of a stranger
would be a danger
Despite my kindness
My eyes possess darkness
My stiff arms continue to reach
To offer the fruit you thought to be a leach

They say you can’t see love,
But feel all it’s feelings.
But I see it clearly,
Through your actions revealing,

The star that you hold,
Shining like light’s color.
I don’t feel cold,
When I start to get smaller.

They say brown is ordinary,
Just common and boring.
But I see the dewberry,
Can’t help exploring.

They say pupils mean nothing,
Just a part of the body.
But I’ve felt them touching,
The dreams I embody.

Eyes are the doorway,
To a person’s own soul.
Feeling them sway,
Unlocking my keyhole,

As I gaze into theirs,
Brushing their haze,
Climbing their stairs,
Solving their maze.

I feel their heat,
I sense their ember,
Yearn to repeat,
The times in December.

Your eyes made of smooth,
Caramel-wrapped chocolate,
Revealing the truth in,
My heart’s flowing droplets.

A fever consumed my two year old body, lasting for days then into weeks, burning like fire, and when this fire fled my being it left with a vengeance leaving destruction that would rain on me every single day and remind me when I looked in the mirror of the pain my scarlet fever made.
As my eyes grew weak as the fever stayed within, left the damage of my muscles for my eyes to both cross .
Throughout the years from such a young age I dealt with the fact of my difference from other kids but not me oh no I did not feel bad for me at all   only because my daddy taught me all my life to have pride and always stand tall , never say , I can't or not even try, never give up on anything , try not to question why,. Be the best at all you do and stop at nothing less , if it's been done once it can be done ahain, if it hasn't there's always a first, ,that mirror holds an image of what the world may see , an ugly Duckling in their eyes but my daddy hurt for me worse than I did so he paid to fix my eyes . At the age of 13 I lay silent on a stretcher ready to go to sleep so when I woke I could look straight with both eyes .
After the stitches and bandages were removed I was ready for my reveal, as my daddy held a mirror to my face I saw his tears raining down his check, I peered at the person staring back at me as she was much different than the one before
I dropped the mirror as I started to cry as my daddy held me tight , he whispered softly so only I could hear , my baby girl thank you dear Jesus, as you have turned from the ugly ducking so people said to the most beautiful swan of all

He felt there is a beauty inside me
Every morning before the sun rise
Silently
He came
To see
To touch
To feel
To gather all the happiness from me
He catches my breath towards his heart
He made me smile even more beautifully
He added something to my appearance
And wonder reminding you of pure and utter perfection.

The texture of the glass is rough with blemishes,
convex with swells of adipose tissue
and spotted with stray hairs.
The occasional splotchy flush
on the sallow complexion
is just enough to suggest life
but not in the right locations
to suggest beauty.
The glass sneers.
The glass snarls.
It takes handfuls of its dull, lanky hair
and yanks,
as if with one tug, the entire image could come to a screeching halt
like the break line on a train.
It's a hideous image,
but it doesn't frighten like a vision of a monster.
Instead,
it insights a painful tug in the chest cavity,
an ache,
a slow, throbbing pang
that lengthens with every glance.
Nothing feels quite as horrible
as the realization
that even if the glass breaks,
comes to the floor
and splinters,
shatters...
Its duplicate will still exist.
In me.

Disillusionment is the price for having your head in the clouds,
For youthful idealism,
When dreams aren't concise.

I used to feel so enticed,
Seeing how a pigmented nail polish,
Could give a pallid hand a sophisticated finish.
But these days there is no novelty.
My cuticles are sliced,
In the places where the paint wasn't precise.
Teeth monstrously disregard the life of the flesh, making a mess,
Now that my nerves have every reason to take out their stress.

Aunts and grandfathers go out of their way for us when we are little enough,
Just to remind us our faces are beautiful enough to rule the world.
Of course we believe them, with faces like blank canvases,
When they say that blossoming will only make things better.

Before long, boys have painted us with scarlet letters.
Their only warrant is our existence.
By eleven, we disassociate and find our old face distant.
Old before our time. Tired and haggard.
You don’t need to point it out when our flaws come out to play.
We know already- but hey, you can still remind us of lumps on our noses, stomachs, and chests.
As if it's gruelling enough just to get through the day.

Didn’t we all see our futures in silver screen angels?
Or a centre-stage princess?
Blind to her hidden talents, so baneful.
Did it ever occur to you,
That our idol queens,
Were more enthralled by lines of coke in their dressing rooms,
Than the magic of living our dreams?

Follow their footsteps, I dare you.
Flip a coin between thriving and doom.
And let us wonder why our aspirations have lead us to death’s doorstep.

I am robot.
Built for entertainment.
Bringing smiles and laughter.
My creators gave me a rockin' role.

Inside me.
Ones and zeroes play.
But blues runs through my circuits.
My audience have no clue to my code.

Elvis lives.
A king among kings.
Rusting from the inside out.
An iron heart with a human smile.

“You are ugly,” an ugly comment posted by an ugly man
I know
“You won’t get married, alas” The ugliness deep in his heart must be greater than mine
I know
I continue to type on my keyboard, not responding to the man at all.
Simply ignoring his presence as a stranger is insignificant to me
“You will be single for your whole life”
I know
I rather people love me for my personality and all of my ***** flaws
The rain continues to platter in the background, cleansing the ugliness
Such as god have once promised to cleanse the earth by drowning us in the great flood
The ***** emotion in my heart lightened
And I resume my day without the stain of ugliness