"Inadequate" I say.
Then you try to disagree,
To sell me lies disguised as compliments
And convince me to unknot my stomach.
But what you do not realise is
I'm years into this narrative
No words nor actions will convince me
No matter how pretty and kind they are...
I am inadequate
Destined to never be enough
Destined to always be...me.
And I won't reread this
Won't check the word choice
Nor the punctuation
Not even the spelling
I'll leave it at first draft
So that it's inadequate
Visibly imperfect
A read? Not worth it
Just like... me.
YOU ARE READING
Escaped
PoetryWords from my mind, strung together so they rhyme... (kind of) A collection of poems that have fled my head.
