She makes the best of what she has every
single day.
Long, flowing hair that smells as if she bathed
in a tub of perfectly ripe strawberries.
Luscious pink lips that only a handful of people
have ever been blessed by.
Glowing natural beauty, blemished with a mask
of insecurity.
A sense of humor consisting of dorky voice changes and corny jokes.
Her eyes are the only pallet of brown
that artists would ever call divine.

From her gaze she only sees half the world
that has been put in front of her. One of her lights
is permanently dimmed. Nothing but black.
She lives as if she could see more than anyone and
do more than anyone. Her constant skip proves
she has no care in the world – not even
the darkness that shades over half of her life
can cover up the shining smile she magnifies
for everyone to praise.

She is content with her life and all that she sees.
But every day I am crushed
when she wakes up in her castle and stares
into her princess-esque mirror. She sees
what she has every day of her life,
but she is unaware that she only sees half
of her beauty.