I was born the one for worse,
born a boy of a pretty curse.
Its not a boy that eyes would see,
but a pretty girl,
this curse to me.
Has I grew the pretty stayed,
ugly only glanced my way.
From pretty boy to pretty man,
with women scared to take my hand.
For fear that I might some day stray,
someone might steal pretty me away.
Never trusting the pretty face,
Ive always been alone.
I was born the one for curse,
pretty to the bone.
saint cynosure ( Ken Bennight )
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pretty-boy-2/
