The truth is that she is not beautiful,
And I have told her so.
I had watched her through sunshades,
But it made no difference.
For although the make-up was laid as proposed,
One can only build a house on a foundation.
And this woman has none.
The mirrors had been set, then reset,
But they still could not pick her reflection.
Then she did it again and again.
And it was like adding a color to the rainbow.
So I had to tell her that she's not beautiful.
That the East and the West can never shake hands.
That what will mix with green to give olive,
Cannot be too far on the color pallet.
And in her settings, there are no options.
But she would not listen, so she now weighs more,
And one percent is from her makeup.
But she's still not beautiful.
Sincerely, she's not beautiful.
And I have told her so.
As I watched her through sunshades,
And negotiated with reality.
I had blamed the world.
But I know it's the woman,
She's not beautiful.
She's a cloudy day, when a cloudy day is depressed.
She is the beast, when the beast is beauty.
Sincerely, she's not beautiful.
And I have told her so.
So as everything else failed,
I made up to her with words.
But once in a while I still spill colours,
By telling her the truth.
It doesn't make me happy.
It doesn't make her sad.
But like climate change,
There are things not meant for politics.
I have loved her, and I still do..
But once in a while,
I make sure we are not acting.
So I tell her, she's not beautiful.
And even when I just stare, she still understands,
Because sincerely, she's not beautiful.
By Samson Abanni
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