I am ugly.
Amy says to herself in the mirror;
wishing her face was clearer.
Wanting her smile to be brighter.
Longing for the skin around her waist and thighs
to be just a little bit tighter.
She's nowhere near perfection;
nothing short of a defection.
Just one of the few flaws on Humanity's gorgeous face.
Or so she believed
before she could really see
the true so called "beauty"
those around her posessed.
Most of them are all faker than fake.
Coated with a plastic cake
hiding their distinctive features
to the point where your face
is just like hers
making all hope of individuality disappear.
Pretty much goes against everything we're fighting for, huh?
All of you claiming to be so different; what happened to that, huh?
Oh and let's not forget "skinny".
'Cause, baby, skinny itself just isn't skinny enough is it?
Craving attention as if it were vital
like the air we breathe.
Lying about your home life;
Wearing your pain on your sleeve.
Like savages, we crawl;
desperately begging for reassurance from everyone else
but ourselves.
They've taken your personalities
and made them indifferent.
Making it so that you are so much easier to form
into what others see
as beautiful.
Well take it from me then, Sweetie,
this oppressive standard of beauty is sickening.
Sickening like the *****
traveling up your throat and out onto the toothbrush
you are using to conform yourself to this standard.
Sickening like the pounds of cover up that are quite obviously
clogging those pores.
But oh, the lies you've told have already filled
enough of the gaps in your heart.
Face it girl, you don't even know who you are.
You've been engrossed by the standard
you all swear you're not a part of.
It is disgusting;
ugly, almost beyond repair.
Now Amy, she is beautiful.
That's right, take a good, long stare.
She won't change herself to be like you.
Can't you see you're miserable?
Pathetic, it's true.
I am beautiful.
Amy says to herself in the mirror.
Wishing, wanting, longing
for all of you to hear her.