The Beautiful Truth
As the tears fall
In the cold hands of night
I wish you would come through the hall
And hold me tight
I hate this feeling
That I don’t belong
Why must I be so unappealing?
Why can I not be strong?
They say, “But you are beautiful,”
What is it that I cannot see?
“Always joyful, truthful, and hopeful,”
They must really not know me
Then you come in and show me a mirror
And what they’ve been saying, is finally clearer
This poem is about:
Me