You tell her she's beautiful,
she laughs and asks you how,
when there's a crack on her front tooth,
and there's a crease between there brow,
Where is all the beauty,
in her slightly too- big nose,
in the freckles on her cheeks,
and how her takes years to grow,
And you wonder where she learnt,
That beauty lies upon your skin,
so she thinks it doesn't cover,
Everything she holds within,
It's very definition,
Is "pleasing to the sense or mind",
But she's let them change the way,
She thinks her beauty is defined,
It breaks your heart to know her mirror,
Is how she estimates her worth,
And not the life she has made much better,
By simply being on this earth.
- e.h