Wildflowers Grow Alone

Beauty's Discontents

Gazing hard at her reflection,
Seeking signs of her perfection,
The silence seemed to play with her,
False ideals in her mind,

But of course she didn’t fall behind,
She never missed a beat,
She bit and tore for imperfection,
She searched and scratched for weeks,

And years did pass,
Until at last,
Her mind arrived at rest;
She told herself of real beauty,
With that she passed the test,

When next she gazed at her reflection,
Though searching hard for imperfection,
The only flaw in her complexion,
Was the frailty of her soul.

Wildflowers grow alone.