I gaze with wonder
At the beauty of a tree
Yet no matter how
Hard I try to see
I am never able
To see beauty in me
It’s party the word
For beauty is tainted
With barbs and thorns
With acid it’s painted
And it still burns,
Stings, is never sated
I’ve been called that
Since the age of five
Called beauty meaning ugly,
Boring, fat, uninspired
Meaning we hate you
Why don’t you just die?
I’ve tried to reclaim it
It use it with love
Embrace its true meaning
Send it off like a dove
To bring peace to my life
Here, below and above
But then I remember
What answer was given
To one who asked why
Such a name in derision
‘Because she’s so ugly’
Those words are still risen
Being with friends
Who wanted to know
What I thought of me
Hid under the bed so
They could record and replay
But my voice was too low
I was told that I should
Want to beat myself up
That to think anything else
Was just arrogant fluff
As for wearing bright colours?
Good grief, no. Enough!
And so here I am
There is only me
No ghostly remembrances
Or derisive glee
Surely now I am able?
Beauty can see?
© A M Hunter 2015
Green and Grey 