I sit in front of my mirror, And think of what I am to be. I wonder about my beautiful hair, And why it doesn't match to me. I'm not that pretty, I don't have the best smile. But sometimes I pretend, That I am beautiful for a while. I remember the child's tale, Of the ugly, little duckling. I was told the story's true, Than in the hell am I becoming? I stair at myself in the mirror. I look and wonder why. If God is the one to fix it, Then why do I sit here and cry? I'm tried of lookin this way. I want it to end tonight. I want to be beautiful. So, I can be in God's light. (This is on poetry.com)