Once upon a time, there was a girl who was perceived as sweet
Her face as if sculpted, lips like satin and her hair o so sleek
Her voice as if the angels have collide
But her heart, her heart was filled with jealousy and spite
Never have her admirers seen such a beautiful, fair lady before.
But also never has anyone met such a spoiled brat, which made everyone - even those driven by lust- sick to the core.
Here, I have written a poem about the thing that if someone has a pretty face, it doesn't mean that what's within doesn't matter anymore. You shouldn't be mean and spoiled to people, but (have courage and) be kind. A pretty face doesn't bring popularity in the end if it is the only nice thing about the person.
Byeee,
Ihzeve
P.S Anyone who has read the poem Beowulf?