To you...

To you, the one who isn't beautiful.

To you, the one who knows that she's not beautiful, the one who knows she won't have a dedication written on musical notes, heard by the entire world. played over and over again and some more, especially during foggy mornings.
To you, the one who knows that she's not beautiful, the one who knows Prince Charming exists only in badly written fairytales that seem to always have at least two versions - one always ending with the most desired happy-ending, the other one full of horrid scenes that depict human nature better than any commercial on TV or B-class movie.
To you, the one who knows that she's not beautiful, the one who wishes Darwin's evolution scale could go backwards, 'cause we screwed everything up and work on the ultimate auto-destruction. 
To you, the one who knows that she's not beautiful, the one that wears her heart on the sleeve, not as a shield, but as the pretties coats of arms. She's not afraid to feel sadness and loneliness as she's afraid to feel unloved and unwanted.
To you, the one who knows she's not beautiful, the one who gives everything of her and keeps nothing for herself, the one who'd jump into fire without thinking twice if you'd only look twice at her and give her the smallest chance.
To you, the one who knows she's not beautiful, the one who knows how to be silent and alert, always there, always near, always prepared to catch the you who's falling deeply into the abyss.
To you, the one who knows she's not beautiful, the one who wishes sometimes to be invisible or a hole to open up and swallow her all, so that she'd disappear wholly with all her pain and aching soul, the one who is embarrassed that she can't be like that person and that person and that person.
To you, the one who knows she's not beautiful, the one who was left without an ounce of luck at birth and still manages to carry on, day by day, with only sun keeping her afloat.
To you, the one who knows she's not beautiful, the one who knows there won't be someone asking for a second, a minute, a day, a month, a lifetime, a forever of her time and still keeps her head up, laughing to the wind and the colours only she can see.
To you, the one who has the most beautiful heart in the whole world, your story hasn't been written yet, so there's no answer to your silent plea. But there is someone, yet to be disclosed, yet to approach you. And you'll be his everything even though you won't see it.
To you, the one who is frail and broken winged... do not despair.