Beauty.

If you were to compare a selfie of me from four years ago to one today,

You would not recognize me. 

 

My eyes, as crystal and blue as a bay,

No longer are shackled to fear, sadness, and exhaustion... they are free. 

 

My curls, tamed with a wand to stay,

Now spring out from everywhere, gracefully, like Georgia peaches on tree. 

 

My mouth, a crumbled waxing moon fading away,

Is now a spot for white waves in a whole called the sea. 

 

A terrible monster used to come and with me, he would lay. 

But one day I gained the courage to push him away and lock the doors with a key. 

 

I do not need a filter, pretty outfit, or make up to enhance my beauty 

My beauty is in my genuine happiness. It is in my mental and physical strength. 

 

Depression cannot take THAT beauty away from me. 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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