My hipsterish ways should act as the great wall that keeps this from effecting me.
Beauty is in everyone, everything.
It's just that the beauty of some is more critically acclaimed.
So why do I, as an underground gem, crave the standing of a Top 40 ho?
"My beauty comes in the form of shifty eyes bouncing up and down from my curls to my ankles, shy glances, static stares, greetings and goodbyes;as the True Religion jean wearing stranger whistled at her, the tune of her youth, in his laceless shoes.
only observed, never possessed by anyone but me.
My beauty? It's the truth! It doesn't sell-out," she said
"Ayo ma, psssssst pssssssssst...that chip on your shoulder sure looks like it tastes good," he saidstriking me with the fear that my closet beliefs, backyard desires, and situational ideologies wouldn't hold up with a knife at my neck and a gun to my head,
as i write these words in black ink on black paper in this pitch black room. This poem doesn't even exist.
"My beauty is sneaky and ruthless, covert and quiet. It doesn't glow in the dark!"