You say you aren't beautiful, inside or out.
I immediately disagree.
You say you are sad and hopeless.
I say no one is hopeless, especially you.
You say you don't know what happiness is.
I say that you're happy when you're by yourself.
You say I should leave.
I say that I'm going to stay.
You turn away.
I make you face me again.
You say I shouldn't even bother.
I say I will always try.
You say there is nothing that will make you look beautiful.
I say this:
You aren't beautiful. At least, not right now. When you smile you are beautiful, and when you laugh and cry and walk and see and stare and read and ride your bike and when you tug at your sleeves.
You are confused.
I continue:
When you tell yourself you are beautiful, you will smile and laugh more. You will realize lots of things make you happy. The world isn't an unhappy place, and the people around you aren't making it unhappy. You're making yourself unhappy.
So if you stop locking away your happiness, my friend, that's all you will need to forever be the most beautiful person, inside and out.
You smile.
I say that I don't even know how to describe how truly beautiful you are.
You say how is that so?
I say that the universe knows, I know, and now so do you. Is there really any way to describe that kind of beauty?
YOU ARE READING
A Plethora Of Poems
PoetryOn my other account (acciolovee) I also have a book of poems, however, this is obviously my new one. These are some poems I have been planning to publish and maybe a couple old ones from my other book. Please read, vote, and most importantly, enjoy...
