My reflection stares at me,

What is beauty?

My phone, showing pictures upon pictures of girls with pretty faces,

The darkness below my eyes

The wrinkles on my cheeks, like a crumbles

Paper.

I look at myself…

What is beauty?

A voice, not in front of me or at the back of me,

Tells me that beauty is the eye of the beholder.

Beauty come within us.

I made you and you are beautiful in my eyes.