as the Queen of Awkward City, I would like to make a speech:
to the girls for whom that "coolness thing" is somehow out of reach.
Now, sometimes you may come across a person who won't leave,
despite the fact that everything you say sounds quite diseased.
What should you do with such a one who stays and doesn't quit?
Who stands and waits for you to gather up all of your shit?
It might be easier, I suppose, to assume that they've gone mad.
Easier, as well, to give up while you're not ahead.
But maybe there is such a time as this built just for you:
to wobble through your awkwardness,
to grow into your shoes.
"I'm not quite sure what I should do" is something you could say
"I keep being awkward, but you just won't go away...
usually by now they've all gone running to the fields,
and yet you stand unmoving, and you wait for me to yield,
assuming that I'll come around and make this worth your salt.
But sadly friend, my confidence came to a screeching halt
on the very day our paths were crossed.
I'm at a loss.
You don't fit into any of my boxes."
I'm not sure what they'll say to this, or if they'll hear the end;
And I can't even guarantee your speech will be as grand.
But hope, hope for the awkward girls! is what I stand to claim!
There is, one day, going to be one who stops to learn your name;
who listens when you speak, who looks you in the eye
(when this happens, though it feels like it, you won't entirely die)
After your non-death, after your halted breath,
after your knock-kneed knees stop shaking,
Go quick to grab a mirror's glance, to see beauty for the taking.
And after you have got a look at what caught that one's breath,
examine now the truth that all along,
before that one came around,
you looked the same.
The eye of the beholder: where all the beauty lies?
Perhaps, but even more than this I think it strong resides
in knowing just Who made your face, and with such care, too.
True beauty is each one of us. True beauty, friend, is you.