This poem reflects the intricate dance between inner turmoil and outward resilience. It explores how, in moments of deep emotional struggle, seemingly superficial acts of self-care—like tending to your appearance—can offer more than just surface comfort. They become a lifeline, a way to reclaim control and rediscover hope. Sometimes, nurturing outer beauty isn’t vanity; it’s a creative expression, a shield, and a source of strength that helps us navigate through the darkness. This piece celebrates how small, external gestures can spark inner healing and guide us past the shadows, reminding us that beauty, even in its most visible form, has the power to sustain and empower.
When I was all hollow, dead inside,
Skin and bones, that broken-eyed,
There it was, my vanity bright—
"Girl, an ugly corpse? Not quite my vibe."
Pretty ain’t just surface gloss,
Sometimes it’s the shield, the boss,
When the bubbly zest had almost gone,
I leaned on beauty and sang my song.
Darkness tried to steal my grace,
But I kept my cheekbones in their place.
They wanted me frail, a faded scene—
But honey, I lived, a beauty queen.
So let them pity, sneer, and doubt,
I dance, I sing, I strut about.
They played my heart, but missed the glow—
I find love in the world, that’s all I know.
Beauty saved me, my spark, my pride,
The thing that kept me alive inside.
To those who broke me, thank you, dears—
You sharpened my spirit, not my fears.
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