my inner self

My eyes are like burnt coal. They are so black that they match the night sky, the same one that the slaves must have seen through the cracks from the belly of the drifting beast. They say that the eyes reveal the soul, but nobody ever bothered to look into my eyes, so they never saw me or my inner self.

My inner self is beautiful. My inner self dances like Dagoberta. It sings like Sylvia. It leaps like Lydia. It moves like Maria. It somersaults like Selena. My inner self is so beautiful that I go there to stay when no one else wants me. I feel like the glorious beauty of my inner self should radiate outwards so that the world can see. But it doesn't, so they don't.