No I’m not a beautiful person, I’m sorry. 
I’m not special, or full of light and laughter,
with a smile delicate as fine Venetian lace. 

I’m not the soul who lights up a room
whenever she walks in.
I carry a little darkness, a little storm cloud.
I’m rather plain, and that’s ok.
but my eyes are large,
they have seen beautiful things
and my ears are like a fox’s
they catch the whispers you drop

I collect beautiful things
like a magpie, I’m lining myself
with lovely
to make up for the lack of my own. 

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