Pretty Lies Of Spring Poem by Jay Lukaksi

Many things are pretty
Like night, day, spring, fall.
That girl over there?
Yes, she is exceptionally pretty.
Me?
Me you ask?
Do I think I'm pretty?
I think I have potential, but my nature holds me back.
Others?
Do others think I'm pretty?
Hmm... that's tough.
I would love to say my parents think I'm pretty
but I would be lieing to you, my friend.
They've never said a word
About my hidden beauty.
and then they wonder
they wonder.
Silly me.
For letting them hold me back.
I think I'm pretty. Isn't that all that matters?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Not.
I want their approval
I want their words
'You are beautiful'
Why do I wish for these words?
why must I want them? To steal them from my parents lips?
Why is there an overcoming angerness
A hunger for the words?
Because I'm starved.
I'm starves from those words.
I don't hear them enough.
I have never heard them.