Of my own volition,
I’ve decided to put myself down

Beauty is not my thing
I decided

It’s crept into my mind
That I don’t physically look stunning
Nor am I brimming with intellect.

No amount of practicality
Is allowing me to construe
This sudden notion
Of feeling dumb

Its making me
Delirious when I get praise
I feel shallow and listless.

I am abandoned with only pain
Left to soothe my worries.

I feel like a dry leaf
Writhing under the hot sun
With no one having enough time
To take a look at it.

I feel parched and pulverized
An anecdote reaches my thirsty heart
“It's all right letting yourself go as long as you can let yourself back”

For the detour,
I’m waiting.