My Insecuritys Poem by Rita Hurrell

It's so hard to say,
What you really mean,
But I'm going to,
Give it a go.

I no this poem,
doesn't rhyme,
But its not perfect,
And neither am I.

I am insecure,
About a lot of things,
Mostly with my body,
But sometimes with you.

I want you,
To be happy,
Only with me,
But how can you be.

I get so jealous,
Over simple things,
Like looks, word's,
Or how you treat me.

Not saying your bad,
Your perfect,
But sometimes i want,
To feel the same.

How can you,
mean things,
If you say them,
To others.

Do they mean,
The same?
More? Less?
What about me?

This poem is about,
Me not you,
Your perfect to me,
And you always will be.

This poem is about,
My demons,
My fears,
My insecurity's.