I wrote this in honor of all the people who aren't afraid to look past the outside, and for all the people who take time to better themselves on the inside. This poem, although written is meant to be preformed in a spoken-word format.
I have a boyfriend.
Some might say he's plain.
Some might even go as far as to say,
Certainly, not attractive in the
But whenever I look at him
All I see is the sun shining forth,
Blessing people with his light.
Other guys have done
Nice things for me.
But, anyone can do that.
(Boys listen to what I'm about to say)
Open a door,
Pull out a chair,
Pour her a glass,
And then you believe
You treat her better than the rest.
And you forget
That flowers don't grow
On trinkets alone.
He tries to find what makes me tick,
What makes me bloom,
What makes my insides twist, and cry, and glow.
Not only to my words
But to my body, my soul,the way my eyes flash
When he does something that makes me blush.
So he does it again...to see a reaction,
To test my boundries...to make me smile.
Yes, you might say he's unattractive
But then he's so damn funny.
And his brain is a masterpiece in motion.
I love to watch it work, and whirl, and smoke.
Cute guys are so dead behind the eyes.
If a house looks like shit on the outside
And its a fucking mansion inside...then I'll take
The maid, the butler, and those damn comfy pillows.
I don't care about the neighbors...let them think
I'm slumming while I drink champagne.
Cute boys and girls might not ever have to work
At being better on the inside.
(Although I give props to those that do)
They just get everything for free.
While their house is in decay
They think you should pay
To park in their garage.
And when you do, you get jacked
Like your in the ghetto
But instead of your rims getting "stole"
Its your soul.
You say my boyfriend's ugly
But I say your eyes are weak
Maybe its his Light,
The intensity of it shining so brightly
Its hard to look directly in and come out
He'll change you, you'll grow
And find yourself looking
At the beauty of life
Just a little bit more.