O
orthognathicenjoyer
Iron
- Joined
- Dec 12, 2022
- Posts
- 79
- Reputation
- 103
In the quiet, where whispers fade,
Lived a soul, in the dark, afraid.
Wearing scars, no stories told,
In the world's harsh gaze, alone and cold.
A chisel's kiss, a brush of grace,
To redraw the lines of a weary face.
To sculpt the light, to curve the bone,
In the silence, the transformation's moan.
"Remember, dear one, whence you came,
The hurt, the whisper, the inner shame.
This power, newfound, a double-edged sword,
Can heal the hurt or cut toward discord."
With every change, a tear was shed,
For all the years, a life in dread.
The mirror's face, now so beguiling,
Held a look, within it, smiling.
But beneath the skin, memories reside,
Of shadowed valleys, the heart did hide.
With newfound beauty, the world did see,
Yet, could they love the soul, once 'neath the tree?
For what is beauty if cold inside?
What's the gain if empathy's denied?
The truest form, the purest vein,
Is beauty born from love, not pain.
So, lift your gaze, oh changed one, and know,
Your battle's silent crescendo.
With every look that you now receive,
Teach the world how hearts should grieve.
To see the invisible, to hear the mute,
To walk in shoes of disrepute.
May your journey whisper to the stars,
A testament, of beauty born from scars.
May tears fall, not for the form so fair,
But for the spirit's light, rare and aware.
In you, let them see, in every tearful glance,
Not the beauty of happenstance, but of second chance.
Lived a soul, in the dark, afraid.
Wearing scars, no stories told,
In the world's harsh gaze, alone and cold.
A chisel's kiss, a brush of grace,
To redraw the lines of a weary face.
To sculpt the light, to curve the bone,
In the silence, the transformation's moan.
"Remember, dear one, whence you came,
The hurt, the whisper, the inner shame.
This power, newfound, a double-edged sword,
Can heal the hurt or cut toward discord."
With every change, a tear was shed,
For all the years, a life in dread.
The mirror's face, now so beguiling,
Held a look, within it, smiling.
But beneath the skin, memories reside,
Of shadowed valleys, the heart did hide.
With newfound beauty, the world did see,
Yet, could they love the soul, once 'neath the tree?
For what is beauty if cold inside?
What's the gain if empathy's denied?
The truest form, the purest vein,
Is beauty born from love, not pain.
So, lift your gaze, oh changed one, and know,
Your battle's silent crescendo.
With every look that you now receive,
Teach the world how hearts should grieve.
To see the invisible, to hear the mute,
To walk in shoes of disrepute.
May your journey whisper to the stars,
A testament, of beauty born from scars.
May tears fall, not for the form so fair,
But for the spirit's light, rare and aware.
In you, let them see, in every tearful glance,
Not the beauty of happenstance, but of second chance.
