I've been described as been described as beautiful but never felt it.
I've been described as pretty but never seen it.
I've heard words of delicacy whispered to me but I have never felt the delicate words land close enoughto feel them.
My insecurities havent gotten me far in this world yet I continue to push them along the track of life.
The whispers I've felt are not the ones of a light touch but the ones that sting like a bee, the ones that slam into me refusing to be unheard.
I've been described as unpretty and I've seen it.
I've looked these rotton words into ts soul amd I've felt them, I've understood them, and I've lived by them.
I've never been described as perfect but that is okay.
I've been described as unhappy but I'm learning to push all that away.