I wonder where my strength and beauty comes from.

Does it come from the facials, the money, the past?
Does it come from my shadowed, imaginary mask?
No, it comes from the gait in my walk,
The memories in the palms of my hands.
The curls of my silky brown hair
And the color of my rosy cheeks.
It comes from the natural beauty inside me.
I appreciate beautiful me.

I walk into a room full of people,
They look at my height, my clothes, my stature,
My skin, my friends, the sound of my laughter.
They judge me on my outer appearance, my mask.
So, I show them the real me, my beauty, my confidence.
The fire in my eyes, the twist on my lips,
The way that I smile, my unheard past.
I adore beautiful me.

No longer do I look left and right,
Wondering who sees me,
Caring about what they think of me.
No longer do I try and penetrate their thoughts,
For deep inside me, I know,
That I was created perfect in God’s eyes,
And in my mind, that’s all that matters.
God loves beautiful me,
And I do too.