Mending Beauty

It goes unseen by herself.

To everyone around it's obvious

But she can't see it.

Some people are envious of it,

Others hate her for it,

And a few,

Just one or two,

Want to show her what they see.

 

They go about it all wrong though,

As they tell her they hate her for it,

Or wish they had what she had,

And sometimes they scold her

For not seeing it.

They say she's wrong

But never give her

Any reason to believe their words.

 

But then there are those few

Who tell her what they think

With a sincere smile

And then do what the others fail to do-

They give her reasons to believe

And she does

For a small amount of time,

She believes she is what they all say.

 

Then the others come back,

and they pull the loose threads

Hanging from her new beliefs,

They may not try to shred her confidence,

Maybe they want to unravel her completely.

Who knows?

But they succeed

And once again she's left with strings.

 

But maybe one day- one day soon-

She will learn to pick up the strings,

Get to work on her own creation,

and make something stunning,

Something she can be proud of,

And maybe, just maybe,

She will be able to call herself

What everyone else says she is.

Beautiful.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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