Beauty.
It's hard to describe unless you've seen it.
I look in the mirror from time to time looking for it but it's hard to see through the cracks.
The missing pieces.
The forgiveness.
The reasons.
But I've come up with a thesis.
I've talked with so many people but none at all and I've become quite an emotional crisis.
I don't tell anyone because I don't want to bother people with my stress.
See, my description of beautiful is:
A 9 letter word carved out of another world.
A world of desolation; Isolated death and hatred;
A world where a kid can look at sticks and stones and gladly break his bones because the worst: the words hurt his brain the most;
A world where that kid can frame and boast his great big goals but still hates to go outside.
Because outside is where the words are.
His whole life he's stayed inside
But one day, this one day he decides to come out.
When he does he's confronted with someone that looks familiar.
This familiar face has a frame, but he just can't fit the picture.
Eventually the exhaustion of these two get the best of them and they go back inside, although never finished.
This'll happen several hundred times before he finally figures out who he's looking at.
When he realizes that, he picks up the missing pieces and fills in the cracks.
He forgives for the reason that next time he might forget again and says, "Your Beautiful" just before he leaves the mirror.
When he, I, think about beauty we tend to forget who really fits the description: You.
