If beauty is what's trapping her, Then is she ever free, As images in glass to her, Are cast eternally.... Incisioned deep inside herself, And nowhere left to hide, Her prison is the tide itself, That take's the place of pride.... Like iron bars that will not bend, But soft unto a touch, Reveals what lies beneath her skin, Seducing me so much... That I dare myself the daunting task, Of loving what could be, That I scare myself wanting to ask, Am I who hold the key?... Sometimes its superficial, But I've learned to see the truth, The ones who think they're beautiful, See it only in their youth ...