Fall from a potential Beauty in childhood
brought with it Stigma and occasional Misery.
Uneasy with these new presences
turning away from the pity
in my mother's eyes, I sought to forget
as I grew older. I sought beauty
in books, Art, people... hoping
their presence would reflect in me
blinding the demons of Stigma & Shame.

I consumed Beauty, drank it
from the lips of men, women, oceans, mountains
I became it...until
It revealed it's impermanent secrets to me
then asked for their price.
I paid unwillingly, thinking
"I am a breath away from being a pauper."

Years have passed.

Beauty, Stigma and I have reached an uneasy pact.
Now I smile when someone notices
Beauty within me
Silently paying homage to the demons that remind
me the next moment that I am hopelessly flawed.
When those with an eye for the devil taunt me
Beauty and the mirror assure me that
Everyone's Lover, Death
is infinitely more disfiguring.

I play now in equal parts with Beauty and Stigma

They are not within my command, yet
have become my familiars.
We take turns foraying into the world
Each revealing the face necessary
For a peaceful and temporary triumph.