I do my lips. I do my breasts. For who? For him? For you?

I do my lips. I do my breasts. I spend all my money on my hair and that perfekt jeans fitting my as.

For who? For him? For you? So I can prove I am worthy your Love?

I spend hours with my face in my phone, edit a picture, so I look perfekt.

For who? For him? For that girl he fucked insted of me? To prove I dont care?

I go on that big party whit that fancy shit, beautiful face whit High heels fucking up my feets, hurting as FUCK.. I can’t even dance to my favorite Songs.

But I look good. Do I have fun?

For who? For him? For you?! For the beautiful girls he looks at over his shoulder?

PLEASE BITCH. I can promise you one thing.

If I do my lips, it’s for ME. If I do my breasts it’s for ME. If I spend money on hair and clothes, it’s for ME.

If I have to wear high heels on a party, I Will rather go to the forest, dancing bearfoot whit the trees and make Love to the moon.

Girls, girls, girls. Whatever you do, do It for YOU. If you looking for the Love of your Life… take a GOOD DAMN LOOK IN THE MIRROR. And you realise you allredy have it.

You are worty. You are love. You are sexy as fuck. With or without makeup, High heels or a man.

Poetry of the day.

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