She is ugly,

She is rotten,

She is the ambassador of disgrace.

They beat her down,

Breaks and bruises,

Tears and scars.

Every good deed is a cheat,

Every mistake is a blame.

A pointed finger is a declaration of war.

She is a sturdy black pencil line,

And they, a mob of erasers,

Shrunken from overuse.

She is merely a reflection,

Innocent and true,

Yet unseen and unforgiven.

Existence is her only crime.

If only they could see, like I,

That she is falsely represented by

Fragile walls of glass

That stand impenetrable against

An army of ugly thoughts.

She is horrid,

She is unappreciated,

She does not belong.

Yet she is unconquered,

She is ubiquitous,

And she is beautiful.


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