by Alea Nesbit
Is that all you have to say?
If I hear you are pretty again
I believe my guts will begin to twist and
burn and the only way to save me from this torture is to cut them and let them spill out on the floor.
I’m tired of being pretty.
Cause pretty fades.
I rather hear how my words makes your heart tremble like the waves of an earthquake, where the fault line created from the impact of a conversation transpired from my lips will leave you forever changed & never the same.
I much rather hear how my presence entering a room is a megaton of energy that can set the whole earth vibrating like a bell.
Pretty is as pretty does.
But I rather be looked at as more.
I rather much be told that my very presence has the power to inspire a whole generation of warriors.
I rather hear how my love melts rocks like the sun, that it can cause the seas to dry up but yet harmless as a dove.
I rather hear how my passion is like a burning flame. Giving you a scar you proudly proclaim.
I want to hear how my smile encompasses the light of the world. Notice how I hold heaven in my spirit.
Tell me I belong amongst the wildflowers, because I freely bloom with petals for my feet, even when the season change I will always begin again.
If the words formed from your lips are your
so pretty, I rather much hear nothing at all.
Cause silence speaks louder then words sometimes.
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder and we all are more then just a pretty face