You were beautiful before they told you

You were beautiful before they told you.
Before they molded you into the temple of their becomings.
All you see now is a price on your soul.
But please take a moment to realize,
that the broken pieces are not a mess.
And as the sun falls into meditation;
as it makes intercourse with the moon,
translating the words pressed over your heart,
into a melody we never thought to listen to-
You should hold tight to the webs of faith set before you.

You were beautiful before they told you.
Your blackness is a narrative few will choose to understand.
It is not an apology nor a monologue.
The beauty of your kinks and locks in conversation with the curve of your breast,
Requires a special appreciation.
So do not despair,
when you are sold below the price of beauty,
on a market which places perfection as a necessity.

You were beautiful before they told you.
You are not an idea nor a single thought but rather a discourse of many colors.
I could tell you this until the end of time.
But do you see it?
You must resist the desire to desist from breaking free.
These chains that print self-loathing over the bridges of your ancestry,
Have blinded you.
And now the shadows in your eyes,
make it impossible-
for you to feel the sunshine,
dancing under the soles of your feet.