Beauty

"You're beautiful," you whisper as I cry
To gain affections.  You love me for what
You see "inside", which is a lie -- I try
To be who you perceive -- my meanness shut
A world away, instead false kindness shown.  
And I ask myself: Are others like me?
Compassion, caring, kindness is false, done
For only praise, not its own sake, you see.
How I envy those, watch in awe, as they
Without thought of themselves (or so it seems)
Aid those who would destroy them -- and I pray
I want to feel true kindness, but from me.
The crocodile tears are real, genuine
For I am selfish; beauty is not mine.