I have compassion,
for the girl
who doesn't know any better.
Who's loveless relationships,
stem from her inability
to believe,
in her own worthiness.
And who holds this sense of worthlesness
in a little pouch
on her gut.
Who's dated jeans,
are just a little too small.
Carrying one bag too many,
for it to not seem akward.
I have compassion for this girl,
who sees the shapely cleanliness
of the other women,
and wonders silently at night,
what's wrong with her
No comments:
Post a Comment