The mishaps of beauty,
shatter the picturesque.
The faces of angels and exquisite bodies,
they rein as the best.

But those who attain beauty,
are forever shunned.

For people tend to overlook your true knowledge...
or maybe you have none.

You're never satisfied,
even through the open doors.

You refuse to believe the opinionated,
you long for more.

Their compliments are lascivious,
not austere, not malleable;
your self consciousness is at it's peak,
significant, crucial.

Expectations of the beautiful are present,
indefinitely.

And collaboratively,
comes open doors, rose petals, chivalry,
hand outs, money, and luxury.

They come so easily.
And leave just as so.

Within time,
this is all you will know.

But when beauty goes,
what stays?

You have nothing,
nostalgic thoughts impede your brain.

Quietly ignored,
confidence could not make their discontent fade.

Because you now know the burden of beauty.
The immutable burden of beauty.