To me this a very personal poem, so it comes right from the heart-Please Read!!! |
Men lick their lips as i walk fast, Unable to tell my body smile from my toxic past Belief that anorexia and bulimia kill, Not realising my weight makes me mentally ill. So what is it that makes boys crave sex, to have to mess with my mind, Not realising they almost made me that whore, The worst was being told by Rich Black guys, That I was 'so, so, beautiful'. Or have grown men say I'm cute, When they only need passion, Was that I almost believed it. No one had said that before, So of course that almost made me a whore When you hear deep ****, you never heard before. The usual confusion followed: 'Do I have a inner beauty only men can see?' 'Do older boys be jealous of that air I breathe?' 'What is it that the oppisite sex see in me?' Are they perverts? So the only thing they glimpse the hidden innocence in me? Are they really men, -So they glance that maturity I be? Or are they just boys, And thake notice of that virginal potential I live and breathe, Everyone has inner Goddess-likeness in them, So do they ignore my outer 'beauty' On the inside and outside, am I what every woman wants to be? What the hell is going on around me!? Is this the question that shall kickstart my fall? This question must be asked and answered: Am I Beautiful? |