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
