Her clothes are decrepit and rancid

Her skin is marked with scars

Her face is stained with the tears

Going down just like herself

Her hair is tied up in a knotty ponytail

Her voice is hoarse although

She says nothing

Her glasses coalesce at the top of her nose

She avoids the people and their

Hurtful and bullying looks

They think of her as just

A confused noise

And a repulsive thing that sits

And does not know a thing



But her mind is flooded with ideas

She dreams of creating the world over

With crystalline bodies so that people

Can really see other people on the

Inside before they see the outside

And that people would have halcyon attitudes

And she wishes people could be happy

Not for what they contain but for

What they outwardly express

She knows she isn’t just luminescence

But is an incandescent fire that is hidden

By a reluctant, flexible shell

And she is aware that she has an abundance of

Grace that she will, for now on, share

With everyone

And for that, she is Beautiful