The forlorn plain girl
For as long as I can remember,
I've always felt plain.
I’m sure I’m not being a lunatic.
“Plain” is not just an assumed name,
It was young, and had grew.
Contrary to morning leave dews,
Unfortunately it never went away.
To its stint I've always felt an easy prey.
I really tried to fudge it many times
By pretending like it’s not there,
But public remarks and their glare,
I mean that painful judgmental stare,
Has always bought me back to its confines.
They have gone by, the feeling’s formative years,
Sadly though the bitter I shed my tears.
Not that I wasn't aware, but when I was small,
To this issue I didn't feel anything of a thrall.
It did at times flood me with sad feelings,
And my mind just labeled it unappealing.
However, I guess then I had no extreme sensitivities,
Because I just was obscured by typical child activities.
But then as I grew, its smears were rapturing my patience
I felt unworthy to be loved and cared for.
It was a real war, and I was the prisoner of the war!
I don’t know it was just something bitter.
It piled up, a gross and smelly soul litter!
However, I thought, I don’t have to calamine my identity,
Neither be camouflaged in my reality
Although set amid negative inferiority imposed thoughts.
I choose to be grateful, not because I have all
But because of all that I have. When you are grateful
Complaints disappear as the oasis of serenity grows in your heart.
I find a peace filled heart as an alluring work of art!
Copyright © Lindo Gama | Year Posted 2015
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