Would her beauty lessen if she believed its radiance?
Or can such beauty only thrive in shade?
I remember pain when opinions mattered relentlessly.
I wanted mother to reassure me.
"You are attractive," she mustered.
Her response confirmed my agony.
I whose words made cool kids wince.
Didn't fit in even when they decided I did
She is beloved but
Her auto default is to isolation.
I understand doubts you can't shake.
Awkwardness of self was also mine.
Do calm words of comfort cool nervous vitiation?
Shame at being different and overthinking it all?
Never.
Years ahead she'll remember my words
And ask 'why couldn't I believe her?'
I didn't understand time wasted on the preeners
Who flee self-reflection like summer feet avoid asphalt.
If only I could dissuade self-abnegation
Only suffering teaches lessons we don't learn
Forging wiser resolve to refuse separating our selves
Selves must swim deep into it to move beyond
The whirlpool whose saltiness sticks to your scabs
In the future you console another decoder of gazes
Spouting mindless code to confirm herself as castoff
Banishing gazes flail confidence like her very first swim.
Beauty is tragically wasted on young deniers
Unable to suss their manifold Amazonian powers
Except as rulers to rap peers' palms
A girl who thinks too much always doubts herself first.