Beautiful
Beautiful.
Me?
Strangers say so.
And friends.
I don't see it.
Guys don't see it.
I don't get a glance.
They flirt with girls
In shorts and spaghetti straps.
Not the girl who sweats, and flushes,
And fidgets with the zipper on her purse.
Beautiful.
Me?
Strangers say so.
And friends.
The right one will see it.
When it's right.
And he won't care about girls
In shorts and spaghetti straps,
And I won't flush or fidget
Because he'll see it.
Beautiful.
Me.
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: