There are some unfortunate souls, I'm afraid,
Who are under-appreciated for the beauty that they hold.
I can just pluck one out in a crowd, I can,
Their faces hollow, their essence sold.
I happen to know a few, I'm afraid,
Who have bloomed and lightly called out to me,
"Are you one of them, or do you understand?"
I listened to the beauty that was she.
She is not whole, I'm afraid,
And those who have carelessly tossed their kindness away:
"She has nothing of what you want her to be."
I listened to the beauty and what she had to say.
There are some selfish people, I'm afraid,
Who can not understand that looks are useless,
And that those who
