On my good days she tells me I'm beautiful.
She praises my eyes, my lips, my hair, and my smile.
She encourages me to hold my head high.
She tells me everything about me is worthwhile.
Then there's other days when things aren't so good.
She tells me I'm not worth anyone's precious time,
Looks me in the eye and tells me I'm ugly
She offers no comfort as I sit there and cry.
She's my best friend on the best of days,
with compliments and kind things to say to me.
On the worst of days, she's my harshest critic,
telling me all the worst that she can see.
So why do I treasure her opinion so,
when all she says is what I seem to know?
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