I grew up in a small town,
I didn't care about image,
I didn't ask “Am I Pretty Enough Now?”,

Vulnerability comes with age,
Or maybe is just more heightened,
Or possibly is sought out with courage,

But it is certainly something to be protected,

I became something called a 'tween',
There were changes made out loud,
I didn't recognize my own figure,
I said for the first time “Am I Pretty Enough Now?”,

Hatred comes with age,
Or maybe it is just developed,
Jealousy beats down courage,

When will enough be enough?

I became a teen,
Life is something of hormones and sounds,
Disliking myself, denying happy,
I say all the time “Am I Pretty Enough Now?”,

Modesty comes with age,
Or possibly is something like a puzzle piece,
Beauty is not outward, not just a face,

It seems to be what everyone else says to me,

I became an adult,
I still live in the same town,
Something new happens sometimes,
I say to myself “I Am Pretty Enough Now”,

Beauty comes with age,
It is recognized by time, not perfection,
And never, ever stays the same,

Truth is what makes you beautiful, I've learned that lesson.