(written November 2025)

For beauty, look to the broken.

Not the butterfly that flits and flutters

before vanishing without a trace.

We are the moths, fearless enough to

stand in the light.

Knowing that, someone, somewhere will screw up

their face in disgust.

We expect it.

We anticipate it.

We wear rejection on our sleeves as a badge of honour.

Because, despite it all, we still have the courage to show up.

You can clip our wings.

You can throw us on the shit pile of life.

Only cowards run and hide.

A warrior’s spirit you will never diminish,

nor the mettle that runs through our veins.

For beauty, look to the ones who display their broken

pieces as art when the blood has not yet congealed.

And never dare tell me that they are not brave.

Copyright © 2025 Maggie Watson
All Rights Reserved