Maybe you are beautiful.
They say you are beautiful.
You don't believe them.
You are a daughter of love.
But you are covered in scars.
One from your first monster.
Two from the chariot races.
Innumerable ones from the wars you have lived through.
Your scars are not beautiful.
They are reminders.
You were not strong enough.
You were not brave enough.
All you are is pretty.
You hate it.
You want to fight.
You want to be powerful.
You want to win.
But you are a daughter of Aphrodite.
All you are is pretty.
(the mirror knows your pain)