Sometimes I want to be like others.
Sometimes I hate myself.
Sometimes I want to be flawless.
A flawless masterpiece,
Instead of a flawed clay model.
Sometimes I don't see myself.
For who I am.
For who I am inside.
For what I do.
Not my outside beauty,
But my innards.
Sometimes.
YOU ARE READING
The Tree Beside My Dreams
PoetryThis poem book shows different stages of the form we call life. From exhilarating to prospering, I bring you the poems that will hopefully open your emotions and let them flow free. And hopefully, these will provide a message, each and every one of...
