Thursday, 31 July 2014

On Beauty

I shall be as drab as a peahen.
My hair shall be as tangled ivy,
My teeth stained to ivory.
My legs and darkened places will bear the prickles of a cactus--both warning and challenge.
My flesh shall roll as the hills and meadows; bear those same scars.
My wardrobe a coat of many colours, clashing and threadbare.
And I will be beautiful, for I will be myself.