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I Am Not Beautiful

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Spirals that frame a perfectly created face.
Shining lips, shining eyes;
The picture perfect abstract of the mind.
Hourglass figure? That sand is slipping quick.
These legs have no muscle, no strength to walk away.
These arms couldn’t lift a burden
These eyes don’t see the assumption.
These lips don’t speak revolutions that leave the room breathless.
I’m beautiful? Far from it.
I’m past the youthful insecurities of vertical mirrors.
This is something deeper, complexity at it’s best.
I am no beautiful; no better than the rest.





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