I wonder what they see when they call me beautiful, I honestly do
Because I don’t see the pleasant view
Now im not the type to counter when they praise
no I say thanks and inspect my face
And all I see are hallow eyes, sleep deprived and so used to goodbyes
and the skin on my face dried and scarred
like broken glass, every tiny shard
chapped lips, thats kissed so many men
praising on my knees but not saying amen
Filthy is what I feel, to sleep in so many beds
because somehow I feel wanted and forget you know until realization sets
that I will never find the love that Ive never seen
Its like a bad movie every sad scene
You see my parents were a bomb and our hearts were the aftermath of that destruction
So im sorry if I did wrong in the reconstruction
I had no instruction
I thought that being beautiful meant the men wanted you
and they did want me but just for a *****
So am I still beautiful stained and used
Do I still have a chance even if my body was abused
I want to be feel beauty without looking in the mirror, not to collapse in the smallest trigger
All ive wanted was love even if id never admit it
Love, even from myself if my heart would permit it
because being beautiful should not be a stumble as love should not be a struggle
Hi this is my first poem ever so sorry, I hope to get more comments on things I should change or what you like thanks
