The Beauty of the Beast

Why is it only beauty I can never see?
Why is it the beast always glaring straight at me?
You hear a single whisper, a forlorn compliment,
And you don’t know the beauty on which their breath was spent.
You never see the light or the writing on the wall,
And you’re alone at night, you have nothing at all.
How did the times become so cold and cruel?
Is everyone else is wise while you’re left a fool?

How do they see what you can’t find?
The beauty they see, to which you are blind?
Why do they sound so sweet and kind?
When deep down you know beauty has left you behind.
You know they’re innocent, they’re hearts sincere,
But, there is no beauty, you see nothing here.
Does it have a face? Do you wear a mask you don’t see?
Is it always something else? Why is beauty so far from me?

You know they don’t mean to lie or deceive,
But, what they say, you can’t ever believe.
They don’t see the bitterness or the hate you hide,
Jealousy and envy, the dark that dwells inside.
The ballads they sing are all unseen to you,
Of joy and tender smiles, souls that aren’t blue.
What could it be? What does it all mean?
When they look at you, and see things you’ve never seen?

They seem so content and you look through green eyes,
Why can’t you ever find what others recognize?
The aching in your heart only tenderness can heal,
When the beast hides from them, the secrets won’t reveal.
So you cover all you’ve known or held that close,
Countless time you’ve tried to forget that’s the way it goes.
They see hearts, you see scars hidden under a mask,
Uneven times and somber nights, another anxiety attack.

The peace and affection you crave are left out in the cold.
You just feel empty and alone, quickly growing old.
You’re half the person you wish you could be,
Where scars are invisible and there is beauty.
They say only the words that you expect the least,
As you stare, hopelessly blind, to the beauty of the beast.


This work is in Girl in the Trees.


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