Beauty is a phantom. It has no physical reality.
To us, beauty is the inches that fingers can count,
Beauty is the flawlessness of our skin and the allure of our eyes.
To us, beauty is the texture of our hair, beauty is the colour of our skin.
But true beauty is a phantom. It has no physical reality.
It is our genteel spirits,
And comforting embraces.
It is the tacit scars of a vanquished battle, and the heart we own, though not our own.