If he makes your heart pace, and your palms sweat, he's not the one!
You will know he is the one when you are comfortable enough to pull the ugliest of faces without wondering if he still thinks you are beautiful.
Maybe she got tired
Of waiting for you to love her
So she went off and found someone
That wouldn't let her stay down
Self looooove. Shes the someone.
Made me feel beautiful
Yet sometimes hideous too
Held my confidence in your hand
It crumbled when we fell through
Nothing makes a woman more beautiful than the belief that she is beautiful
There is one lesson you taught me
Sticks out more than the rest
And that is to love myself at my worst
Not only when I am my best
Its okay to be a work in progress
I will not waste time counting losses
They only bring me down
If I allow my brain to think
In my thoughts I'll surely drown
I have built a bridge over memories
To escape rapid flow
A rail so I don't tumble
Into dangerous swells below
As long as I remain detached
Distant from usual pain
I am able to harness meager cheer
Keep myself from going insane
I feel a strengthening in my blood
A wanting no longer there
I have laid away former distractions
In favor of clean vacant air
I have done away with disorder
At least the negative kind
I am going to forget my bad habits
Regain the lost parts of my mind
No more whining or self-deprecation
Or wanting to change who I will be
I am tossing out the mocking past
Finally embracing beautiful me
Reading this now if course brings thoughts of recovery and addictiin to my mind but this was waaaay before I ever did real drugs. It was written about my insecurities and accepting myself for the imperfect mess I am.
Just because I cave like a chameleon under pressure
Doesn't mean I don't have true colors buried
Underneath this plastic
The body of a poem
Could never be as beautiful as *yours
I used to filter my words and actions to meet other's demands. Thankfully, I've gained confidence in who I am.
Because, I would rather be myself, frankly.
I'd rather have my flaws than yours and boast about my imperfections than pretend to be this socially acceptable girl.
Trust me, I'm far from perfect. This I know.
And I'd rather be that than put up a show.
I used to crave for acceptance, but instead I felt pushed away by cliques and clichés, realizing that pretense came with no gains.
Now the filter is gone, and I'm sticking with those who've been with me all along. I choose to be myself today. My life is better like that anyway.
Not quite sure why I began writing this poem, but towards the end I express some feelings I had in high school when I always seemed to be trying to impress people. College has taught me the value of being myself and I am moving towards being more comfortable in my own skin.
— The End —