“Pretty Ugly” I grew up ugly, … You don’t know my struggle.
“Pretty Ugly” I grew up ugly, … You don’t know my struggle. And there no poem for that but there is a therapist. There is a console that I console As I hold on to the controller I feel more like the hero in the game, Than I am I am…The frog you kiss that still a frog, When you wanted the prince. Because the queen fall in love with the prince soon to be king! But I am not Simba! I am not lion king, I’m lying, king. Look at me? I got a 5 head, 4 eyes, 3 deep; Me, myself, and I 2 be me, 1 must nose (knows) I am not scented with the cologne of masculinity, It was the stench of the locker room, That charmed the ladies. Reminder of this as I look in the mirror with a black eye. Realizing there only one eye like Cyclops, That feel like this…Like this…Like this…I mean like this on facebook or instagram. Because those LiKES feel like currency for confident, That I don’t have That a line you don’t get unless you get this, When I tell a girl she is attractive and she says thank you You dont get it? She never says you are attractive too because I am pretty ugly. #poetry #spokenword #poet #poem https://www.instagram.com/p/BsNvDF9AnMX/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=u8jx0edjrbpu -- source link
#poetry#spokenword