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I do not see
A beautiful me.
I see bulges and splotches
And bumps and squiggles
Where there should be none.
Am I beautiful?
I see each imperfection
In body and soul
I see how ugly
I think I can be.
Am I beautiful?
I know I'm not all bad,
But i'm certainly not that good.
How could someone like me
Possibly be
Beautiful?
Am I ?
I know that art
Cannot be appreciated
Without some knowledge of
Its history.
Why, then, do I not believe
Those who know and love me
When they think or say I am
Beautiful?
Am I ?
I don't want to believe
How can I be
What I don't percieve --
Noone could see
Me as beautiful.
Am I beautiful?
Unattainable perfection
Is what I think beauty be
Never will I reach it,
So beautiful can't be me.
Am I beautiful?
I'm beginning to understand
That striving brings the worth
And that it might be my imperfections
That make me beautiful.
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