I wouldn’t call myself beautiful at night, moonshot.
I learned to keep my head up, but it’s still a long shot.
What I portrayed was only a version,
a diversion from what lay behind the veil.
It rained stars,
around my head.
Now I love me,
big thanks.

I thought the man I had eyes for couldn’t love me back cause I wasn’t beautiful.
But I changed my hair.
My glasses too.
Lost forty pounds.
Grew confidence too.
But I didn’t return to his doorstep to beg for acceptance again.
I know one thing.
I deserve better.
Than someone like him.
For what it’s worth, ******* for the heartbreak but thank you for making me
beautiful.

The sweet are the danger, you can’t always see the spikes on roses blooming.
But what you can do is choose happy over doubtful, it’s a gift to know how to.
Being trapped in a body you hate, it’s a misery that only you have the power to eliminate.
It’s a weird thing for me to say, but I only learned to love me having hated me.

Now I call myself worthy at day, sunshine.
I manage to absorb the bright, starlight.
Next step is finding someone capable of holding me together.
And making me believe I’m beautiful when I’m all kinds of ****** up.
Not just on my best days.