A True Beauty
Her features are not eloquent or of
Something to brag. Thighs, hips, arms, face, stomach—
Fat. Makeup and lipstick, can’t do the trick.
She’s homely from her toes to all above,
Because what she offers isn’t good ‘nough .
Unlike a feather, she floats like a brick.
And like a sloth, her wits are not as quick.
Yet beauty, brains, and all the carnal stuff,
Do no justice to her disposition—
Courage, fervor, a spiritual giant.
Carrying no regard for thoughts of those
Around her, their comments only expose
Their own unseemly, woeful condition.
Morale has won, and she is triumphant.
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