Poem : Beauty I

my beauty
if i indeed possess any
has not gotten me far in this world

my beauty receives the bare minimum
discouraged from great tales of the same venue
it seems to illicit creativity and passion

my beauty is left anticipating commotion
a proxy for something greater
someone more beautiful

my beauty must be quarantined
elusion is the best plan for preservation
a cocoon is needed to endure time and burden

my beauty has finally accepted its rightful key
shutting all doors on bad weather
only winds of reckoning will touch my face