My face, an illusion of sorts, looks and watches and waits so such anticipating events. The event of recognition. Another event of beauty. Again another event of desire. But as I said "my face, an illusion of sorts" is a true statement. An illusion where one person may see one thing, another will see something different. One might see female qualities another will see male, boyish type qualities. Even in my voice and name I am not justified into womanism. To find my parents so perfectly fit and able to represent their genders in perfectioning ways is frustrating. The balance finds it's way once again, making beauty's replacement ugliness.
but in such ugliness I can be hopeful of one thing; beautiful replacements.
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