i’m beautiful
because i demolish my poltergeists
with syllables that pulse 
under my skin,
a crescendo of the ivory keys
when the tempo is accelerando;
because i can and will
open your cranium
and study the flowers that grow within
and the bugs that eat them;
because i smile at the woebegone stranger,
painting a picture with god,
my co-artist of the sunset;
because my mascara
makes my eyelashes like butterfly wings;
my laugh is a mighty trumpet of angels;
i watch the terrible,
terrible night storm that uproots the tree
in my front yard
and i understand the feeling of 
being torn from comfortability;
and i run out into the cacophony
of lightning and wetness
and i suddenly feel alive,
swimming in my fear and accepting it into my bones;
i've endured years of wrestling
Beezlebub in my backyard,
so even as my demons crawl up my throat
i can still stand in front of you and smile;

because with my lips painted violet
i am Athena;
and when the moonlight hits my visage,
you can finally witness Aphrodite in person;
i smile wider than a victor, 
i cry deeply from my diaphragm,
and i feel another's wound
as if a bullet tore through my guts,
and i see the shambles of this earth
and there's nothing i wouldn't do 
to whisper secrets to the raindrops
and rejuvenate humanity;

that’s what makes me beautiful.