not feeling good enough
Learn more about other poetry terms
You're so pretty! Your face is beat! Oh my God! You're hilarious! I love compliments. Conceited much? No. I'm quite Precarious.
If you were a kind of bread, you’d be sourdough(or that gross sort of organic wheat withall the chunks in it that everyone eatsbecause they think it’s good for them and
My inadequacy Has spawned storms on the sea As everyone that matters Has climbed up the ladder They've escaped my tether And found bigger and better They insist there’s still love