Prude. Censuring. Perfect Little Girl.


Prude. Censuring. Perfect little girl.

Am I a prude when I dislike foul words?

And promiscuity is not something I adore:

But how can I be perfect if you claim that I’m a churl?


I love beauty, and revel in pretty things.

I joyfully acknowledge the passing people in the street,

And savor the stranger I won’t again meet.

In him is encapsulate the beauty that life brings.


I am too harsh with myself,

For it is me who calls me names.

And makes of myself these negative claims.

And so my finer sensibilities I store on a shelf;


I pull out a short tight skirt,

And start to drink, smoke,

As on ‘coolness’ I choke,

While silent tears drop down on my shirt.


I am more alone than ever,

Though mixed in with others,

Forgetting the love of the almighty Brother,

Who vowed his love on a cross, never severed.


So hurting now, my faith almost broken,

And hope wavering like a flicker of light,

I return to my Lord, I call in his sight,

And ‘you are beloved’, are the words he has spoken.


When Christ looks, it is beauty he sees,

For I am beautiful, I am unique,

I am not perfect, I am a geek,

And that’s okay, because that’s me!


Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741