Despite the words said to her,
Every kindness, every desire for her, felt fake.
She couldn’t see what they saw.
Inside, she was rotting away.
Really, who could desire her?
Everyone!
Despite the words said to her,
Every kindness, every desire for her, felt fake.
She couldn’t see what they saw.
Inside, she was rotting away.
Really, who could desire her?
Everyone!
reflections of an unquiet mind 
We often fail to see the real picture.
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It makes me wonder though: which picture is real? The one others draw of us, or the one we see in our distorted mirrors?
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Beauty is everywhere, we just need to look for it.
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I am not sure if we really need to look for it, or if it finds us.
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