Do you remember when we were little?
And there was that saying, "Seeing is Believing"?
Well, when it comes to her this is not just.

Things become muddled and blurred,
and now, suddenly I do not see her.

A head full of curls, skin smooth as silk,
eyes more bright than anything could make them,
and lips, lips made for beauty, for kisses, and for love.

She doesn't believe what I do, because to her seeing is believing.
Her lashes could be darker, she says. Her eyes brighter,
her lips redder, and her appearance better.

What could I do?
How could I make her see that I was here before the rules were made.
Before waists had to be skinny, before eyes had to be marred,
With black pencil, before skin had to be buffed and stretched,
And polished, and waxed, and before faces had to be molded,
Into what we now call beautiful.

Stripped down of all that masks her, is a woman.
And out of all of the rules of the world that bind her,
When did it become an infamy to be human?