What Matters

I wear dark clothes in summer.

I listen to scary music and wear the vizard and cloak of an Ice Queen.

I don’t eat exotic or interesting food.

I am plain but for my hair,

But that isn’t me, I just like the colour.

I have as many freckles on my body as there are stars in the sky;

But still, you will count and caress each one.

 

You will look into my green eyes which flit to grey when I am scared.

In the dark you trace my outlines, my imperfections,

And still you will say that I am beautiful.

My voice does not command,

My presence does not demand,

And I will take what is reprimanded of me,

But you won’t.

 

You gave me a reason to smile for no reason at all.

You made me realize that my voice can resonate,

And that the things inside my head are worth sharing

Because I am not a blank slate or a plain board.

I am a picture in a museum.

Not many will appreciate its beauty and style

But that’s not what matters.

What matters is that it does not need a million admirers,

Just one -

 

Beauty is in the eye of the believer,

And you believed in me.

 

I am beautiful.