What is beauty? It feels like such a duty.
I don't know how to be a cutie. What a labor in futility.
Too much clamour in my mind makes me moody.
How am I supposed to feel this beauty?
When I feel covered in filth and quite sooty.
All I usually feel is tired and woozy.
Who needs a mirror?
My reflection couldn't get any clearer.
But I do long for my mind to be freer.
Sometimes, I wonder if the grass will always be greener.
I am so thankful, my God is a Father.
To Him, I could never be a bother.
I never have to listen to Him holler.
My beauty doesn't matter to my sweet Father.
Because to Him I am worth more than every dollar.
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