Are you telling the truth?
Why do you not agree with the others?
How can you see me differently?
How can you love me?
I am not pretty, nor attractive in any way.
I do not have curves or a pretty smile.
My voice is not the sound of tinkling bells.
Unlike her. She is perfect.
Her body is better, more feminine
Her voice is higher, cuter, sweeter
Her eyes brighter, her skin unmarred
By these scars of mine
I know you want her, more than me
You always have, I know it, I know it
I was your second choice,
The one you wanted if you couldn't have her
I'm the leftovers, the boring one
The one that you keep around
Just so you have something to do
Not for me, for the entertainment I give you
What good am I? Other than a show?
A toy or a game for you to play?
An old ragged doll you keep until
You get a new one.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoesíaSome sappy and sad poems I write. I have a few happy ones, but I write to get out the bad stuff.
