The poems carved on your walls are never about me.
You write about the girls you once loved, beautiful girls
Their kisses taste like stardust and their moans sound like heaven when you touch them the right way.
You wrote about the girl you see in the halls at your school. She must be special.
I can't write and my feet look weird and my kisses taste bitter. I'm not a beautiful girl.
Your poems will never be about me.