How many people actually call me beautiful.
Not to hit on me, but as a complement out of love.
Tops, three people.
Three people that really mean it.
And when people call me beautiful, later on in the day, I look in the mirror.
I don't believe them.
The mirror lies, the people are just being nice, and I am undecided.
But they constantly tell me over and over,"you're beautiful".
I am starting to believe them.
And when I look in the mirror, I get glimpses of what they are talking about.
But they never fail to run away.
I just hope what they are saying is true and hope that I see what they see one day.
YOU ARE READING
Wallflower
PoetryI wrote this when I was bored, but it's really deep. Hope you guys like it. XD