Pretty by Gifted Guru
Three months old. Screaming, wailing, always crying. Grabbing my hair. Making a mess. Still Mum looks and says Isn’t she pretty?
Seven years old. Stealing my stuff. Bugging my friends. Singing along to cartoons. The day you got into mum’s make-up and asked Aren’t I pretty?
Ten years old. Needing help with homework. Falling over in the park. Crying for mum. You look at her tear stained eyes. She tells you you’re pretty.
Twelve years old. Almost a teenager. Stealing my clothes. Always bugging me. Helping you prepare for your first school disco, when you kept asking, Am I pretty?
Sixteen years old. Fighting all the time. Getting in my way. Needing my advice. Mums not around anymore to tell you, That you’re pretty!
Seventeen years old. You know the truth now. You feel you life’s always been a lie. I never meant to lie. You ran away feeling, You’re no longer pretty!
You’re back at home now. You know I'm you’re mum. It’s only been a few months since you found out. But I remember always being your mum. And I’ve always wanted to tell you my darling daughter, You’ve always been pretty.