Don't be jealous
Of the hair
The amount of torment
For you can't prepare.

But beauty cannot be given
Nor can it be asked
Beauty must be earned
At least that seems the task.

But some, or mainly all.
Have somehow attained this
All but me
Of course that is.

And even as I wrote this
I want to say you're beautiful
But I know that my words
Will be inexcusable.

Cause it seems that most
Feel just like I do
And saying you are and I'm not
Seems like a curse to you.

I don't even know why I write
These poems for my comment
I guess I'm just that stupid
And to you I give the torment.