What do I love?
Well I love food, Mountain Dew, movies, spaghetti, my family, my friends, paintings, writing, math, makeup.
But am I perhaps missing something?
What about myself?
Do I even like me?
Why aren't I good enough?
Or pretty enough?
Or smart enough?
Do I even like me?
My mother always told me "If they can see where your makeup ends and your face begins, you've done it wrong."
In my life, I've only ever done it wrong. Do I even like me?
YOU ARE READING
Poem things
PoetryListen, I write poems, but I write really shitty ones. You're going to hate them and that's the whole point of sharing them. I hope you hate them and I hope you talk shit about them. Bye.
