I'm never quite sure what he sees in me, though he's told me time and time again. I can't see myself through his eyes. I can't see the strength he describes in my stance. I can't see the passion he says lurks in my eyes. And I surely can't see the beauty he says lies behind my smiles. All I see is weakness, the tears I have shed. All I see is curiousity, who I've come to dread. And all I see in my smiles is the one tooth that's not quite straight. So while I stand here staring at the icy reflection of myself, I wonder... how can he see past the faults, to find any virtues at all?
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