To the young ones, the old ones, the ones in between, beauty isn't just skin deep, with age, in time, beauty nor wisdom mature, for in life, with death, we bore and die of clay, ash, and star dust. For some in life, youth will always remain, it will fit them like their own person's skin, but many more of us, youth will fall to the way side, as we grow older and change.

Beauty, in reality, is as truthful as the body of this poem.