They say beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.
I think beauty eyes in those lies instead.
Beauty, like justice, is blind.
Nothing soothes her, even the sands of time.
She serves who deserves.
She serves who preserves.
She serves not your preset batch of media toiled sport.
You can spot her if you close your eyes.
You can spot her if you stop spotting.
She’s colorful, the way you blink after staring at the sun.
They say beauty eyes in the lies of the beholder.
Why do they have to say anything about beauty?
Are you her lawyer, reason asked.
Are you her father, humor whispered.
You must be my brother, pride stated.
Before they could see her, she left.
To lie, yet again.