sometimes, beauty wears a mask,
disguised as tragedy, it adorns pain elegantly.
sometimes, beauty forces its way out of tragedy,
to remind you, it won’t take no for an answer,
that it won’t settle for being called ugly,
just because it hurts.

We know what you covet,
we know all you harbour,
what nerve you possess,
to think you could be,
anything other,
than what we all are,
under these covers,
alone, bereft and naked,
ugly, and beautiful,
same personality disorders.

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