You attribute her success to her looks,
In school,
In work,
In gaining friends,
In everything, really.
You believe it to be a compliment,
But your foolish utterance sends her spinning,
In a funnel of self doubt,
Second guessing:
Her intelligence,
Her talent,
Her hardwork,
She questions everything,
Except her current aesthetic,
But even in that, she loses confidence,
Because she knows beauty withers,
And when it crumbles and turns to dust,
Will her success do the same?