Beauty

Can the wind blow in the other direction,
Away from my rising imperfection.
Can the sun freeze in place,
To not fall on my ugly face.
Can the mist pause,
So as not to show me to the world,
A cold and harsh place that will compare me to others,
Despairing me before the others beauty and magnificence.
Why cannot the beauty I once had return,
Or was I even beautiful then?
It doesn't matter,
And in truth,
I no longer care.
Beauty is from within,
Ive learned,
And beauty on the surface is a simply, rather selfish whim.

So dont judge by beauty,
But by character of strength.
For more than silky hair and fair skin,
There is a loving heart, and a kindness akin to a model's outer elegance.