You radiate perfection.
People describe you as the material
for the next messiah.
You will be known forever,
immortal in the eyes of those
who adore every bit of you.
Men will captivate your excellence
in bronze, graceful statues,
weeping at the juxtaposing
of perfection against their hands' flaws.
Gorgeous girl, you try so hard to get it right.

Mirrors are worn down from you
staring into reflectivity for so long.
I tell you to look at the sky
every once in a while.
You just say you wish
to be a beautiful bird someday.
Birds are not remarkable, precious
girl, because someone else
told them so.

I want you to live in peace.
I want to hug you only
for happiness.
I want to watch you
sing as if the world is
a dance needing a tune
with a quicker pace.
Melody girl, voices
weren't made to be pretty.
Celebrate
because you're the
exception.

The next time you see
a statue, remember
that they too were once
only flesh and bone.
Mankind all has their
heroes, and only a few
make it up onto a platform.
Maybe one day you'll be
greening from rain,
but for now you're
growing from it.
We all love you, girl.
You're the only one who doesn't.