Poetry

Pretty Thing

I’m not the prettiest thing in the world
But I clean up fine

Sometimes, my hair falls strait down my back
The longest layers point downward
Daring your eye to look at my derriere
Once, a former boyfriends last words to me were:
I’m going to miss that ass, its beautiful
He’d shaken his head when he’d said it
How romantic…

When there is moisture in the air
The hair around my face
Turns to curls
I feel like a black sheep of sorts

At just the right angle
I have a stunning smile

But otherwise,
I’m not the prettiest thing in the world
In fact I kind of look like a rodent
I wish I didn’t care so much about how I look
I wish other people didn’t either.

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