I started this poem,
with what I was feeling.

That I'm not pretty,
and I'm not smart,
that I feel shitty,
don't make me start.

About all the girls,
in my class,
all perfect bodies,
am I from Mars?

Now he comes,
and scribbles on some words,
now I'm pretty,
and he is smart.
Thank you so much.

He likes me for me,
my body in class,
but my head,
in Mars.

-Z.R.w
-30.3.23