Once upon a time there was

A girl.

 

Perhaps this should be the end of the story,

Some people certainly think so,

 

But if you dare to read on,

Maybe I’ll indulge in telling you more about

This girl,

 

A girl,

Who doesn’t necessarily call for a second glance,

As you pass her on the street,

 

No.

She’s rather ordinary I suppose.

 

Except what you don’t know,

Is she dances among the stars in her dreams

And basks in the light of supernovas,

Daring the force to move her.

 

Her life revolves around a note of

Spontaneity,

Which she plucks from the string of

Curiosity,

Resonating as she travels the seven seas

And discovers the wonders of the world in the stories

She composes from the mist of people

Screaming for their tales to be told.

 

The strength she holds

In every cell of her body

Does not show itself in her biceps

Instead,

It manifests itself in her core, propelling her

forward

With the power to move mountains.

 

She leaps upon the clouds,

Playing among the birds and singing

Until her voice escapes her

Blown away by the wind

Enticing her

To Fly

 

I suppose she’s ordinary

To those unable to see the stars

upon Earth

 

Those who cannot see the stars,

Are blind to the beauty

Before them,

 

They refuse to see

The brilliant luminensence in her eyes

When she smiles

Or the happiness

in the echoes of her laughter

That make her

Beautiful

 

Beautiful

What is beautiful?

Who has the right to define beautiful?

To me,

It is a social construct that thrives upon the

Discrimination

Of people who do not fit society’s ideals

 

Many people

Beg the heavens, upon their knees,

Beg the doctors, who wait with a scalpel at hand,

To make them

Beautiful

 

Why should you change,

For society

When the universe loved you enough

To make you the way you are

 

People might stare at the white streaks upon your legs,

Upon your arms,

Upon your stomach,

That flash across your skin like lightning

In the night

 

They might stare at the pimples

That have created a home

Upon your face

 

Or the tiny roll of stomach that

Protrudes

When you sit down to eat,

 

The roll that manifests the

Disgust

That you feel when you eat,

Desire

For a supermodel’s body,

Or Dread

When you realize that you cannot be

What society

wants you

to be.

 

But don’t submit to the

Cruelty

That society subjects you to,

For you are beautiful

No matter what size

What shape,

What color,

What ethnicity,

 

You are beautiful.

 

I know that words upon a page

Engraved by black ink

Might not make you believe in your

Beauty

Or the radiance of your smile,

Or the brilliance of your personality,

 

But believe me,

Trust me,

Listen to me

 

When I say you are

Beautiful

Despite the pimples,

Despite the stretch marks,

Despite the differences that society,

Rejects

Or calls imperfections

Because those “imperfections” are what make you

Beautiful.

.

.

.

Once upon a time there was

A girl,

 

A girl,

Who doesn't necessarily call for a second glance,

As you pass her on the street,

 

Who questions her beauty

And wonders who can see her flaws,

 

This girl

Is beautiful,

No matter what imperfections mark for body,

 

So admire her beauty,

Take a second glance,

Tell her she's ravishing,

 

Because at the end of the day,

We're all beautiful,

luminescent,

Stars

Upon Earth