Beauty from the first glance,
Never more blessed by chance,
Beauty from the first sight,
Fades to black by the night.

Beauty lands on the eye,
Keep watch as time goes by,
It’s gone as sunlight fades,
Banality cascades.

Beauty which beauty lasts,
Timeless aura it casts,
‘Tis my surprise sublime,
Beautiful every time.

The hot and the cold collide
It is soft and tender, yet wild and free

There is no tomorrow, only now
And oh how it is etched in time!
Fresh hot branding!

As the extremes conflict, they slowly merge

A mellow hiss is all that is left of the time lost in eternity
Forever real
Forever beautiful

Slim waist.
Skinny arms.
Thigh-gap legs.

“Perfect bodies,” we call them.
“Beautiful” and
“Real.”
But there is nothing real in plasticity,
Nothing beautiful in being ashamed
Of stretchmarks
And imperfections.

Self-hate is not beautiful.

Self-hate is a bunch of weeds,
Growing on the outskirts of our minds,
Slowly inching their way
Into the flowerbeds of our lives,
Killing everything in their path
And leaving a trail of burnt nothingness.

Self-hate is the wandered gone astray,
The lost hiker desperate for a path
To lead him back.
It is panic and despair;
The road for self-destruction.

Self-hate is an ignored cry for help,
A stumble into a dead-end street.
It is staring into a dark void—
Only to be stared back by your own tormented eyes.

Self-hate is not beautiful.
It is your soul begging to be saved
By your own self.