TO BEAUTY PAGEANT JUDGES
by Gerald Bosacker
No stitch mark or discerned stitches,
nor pockmarked skin that shows or snitches,
this gloried miss is free from glitches
deserving crown you could install.
The scars she bears are all inside,
her bio skips the nights she cried
mute victim of her parent's pride,
no sadder star can you recall.
As Queens need more than pretty faces
she's well rehearsed in social graces
with perfect smile, rescued from braces,
segued amid her demure drawl.
You have the power to place her first,
or send her home, her bubble burst;
no matter which, your choice accursed
since you don't measure soul at all.