I love your curves play over and over
in my small schoolgirl brain.
everyone says i'm stupid to listen
to the things you tell me
because they are simply
"what I want to hear"
but these folks, these "friends",
they only read the lyrics
as opposed to listening to the song
they see the words but hear no beat
they read on the lines, not between them
they see graffiti on a concrete wall, when those spray paint scribbles are truly art
and sometimes it takes tilting your head to the left,
standing on one foot,
and closing your right eye
to see the beauty of what you say
and do
when you see the art of the spray paint that is my soul,
when you hear the sing-song of the way he calls me beautiful,
when the words are truly believed to be true, and not hollow spikes of sound
you understand