Am I a pretty girl?

Am I a pretty girl? Do these people even like me? Is that envy? Why do boys only want to fuck me? When my clothes fall off my shoulders and pool around my feet, will they still want my body? Have I hidden well behind high wasted jeans and my new lace bra? My stomach isn’t flat, my boobs aren’t perfect and I wouldn’t even know what abs are.

This poem is about: 
Me

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