She looks so pretty
in the sun rays of a blessed afternoon.
The breeze has a soft touch
on her skin of flawlessness.
Her voice is a Mozart sonata,
and for her the word perfect is an understatement.
We need sunglasses for the height of her radiance.
No one will look away;
she's cursed to be in the gaze of thousands.
But then my heart falls when I wake up from that dream.
Yes, none of that was real,
and pretending it is
I must change.
I turn the pages of my diary,
in hopes that writing in it will be
like a purification,
to everything that is within that I want to be without.
What I then wish for is to go on as myself,
and to see everything and everyone,
not with rose colored glasses,
but just as something with value;
in a word the truth.
The true beauty of life
is being who you are,
and being happy with who you are,
also to smile and mean it,
so smile and be your own sunshine.