You are beautiful in all your brokenness.
In all those less than graceful moments when you bawl your eyes out, when the snot drips down your nose and the sound coming out of your mouth is that of a wounded animal. You are beautiful for fighting, for giving up so many times and yet always trying again. You are beautiful for all those battles that end at 2 or 3 a.m, that leave you beyond the point of exhaustion, your body heaving and curled into itself, and tears soaking your pillow as though it were the blood from battle spilling all over your armour.
You are beautiful, beautiful for your strength.
But even weakened, even as you stray into the craters of darkness, there is still that glimmer, this faint trace of beauty like a scent you wore the day before which lingers on your skin still.
They are all so beautiful, those who fight demons only they can see.