I like my stomach,
I like my face.
I also like that my nostrils are weirdly misshaped,
And those hollow scars I have on my left arm,
From a really bizarre spot infection,
That later came to no harm.

I like the moles that are in awkward places,
Freckles on my nose,
Filling other bland spaces.

I like the way I waddle when I walk,
Or stutter when I talk,
I like the way I am.

I like my wacky behaviour when I'm with friends,
Or my unforgiving laughter when the day nears an end.

I like that I cry over the most stupid things
And that I can pay for thousands of chocolate bars,
But can't afford diamond rings,

And yeah, I like the way I am,
Cause confidence is key.

But most of all,
I like that I can look at myself in the mirror,
And be proud of what I see.

I didn't even ask
To be your sun
Or your moon.

All I wanted
was to be
Your Sunday afternoons.

How many empty calendars spaces
I wasted,
Waiting for you.

Hi, I'm an insecure poet
Just like I don't like myself
I don't like my poetry
I don't know but sometimes
My poems aren't just it
They are unclear and weird
Like my personality is
They're short and stout
Just like I look physically
They sometimes rhyme too much
Like I overdue too much
Sometimes the free verses
Seem like the amateur I am
And everything's clichéd
Like my creativity got ******
They're hairy and dark
And ugly and scarred
But most of the time
They're just all over
All over excellence
Just like my neighbour
Is all over men
And I try too hard
I get all over it
But when I let go
No matter that I'm fat
The breeze carries me forth
No matter that I'm dark
I shine
And my creativity
Crawls out of crevices  
To create poetry
That warms the soul