The melody whispers across my soul.
Beat an endless rhythm, chanced as if reflected an existence,
Looking back to a past that had seized to be, yet there he stood.
Those who beauty is first given in turn into those who others despise.
Not for a jealousy but for how ugly personality is perceived.
Not him.
The first for eyes to sweep over. The first that attention does not fall, does not notice the beauty that slowly
raises its head.
You notice how beautiful they are truly as modesty keeps it all within them.
A rarity in this world.
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