Pretty, skinny, smart, kind,
How many people see through my lies.
Maybe that's then reason I want to burn with him,
I'm part devil, part bad girl, that's just who I am.
You say "What's a good girl like you, doing with someone like him?"
Maybe that's why I hate you, maybe that's why I sin.
Do not judge him by the way his skin is his canvas,
Do not judge him by the metal piercing through his lips.
Know that the words he whispers into the dead of night,
The fears he keeps hidden, away from your sight,
And the stunning eyes that showcase what he's seen,
That's who he is, reflected in pools of green.
So why don't you judge me the way you judge him?
Because I'm pretty? Or skinny? Or have unmarked skin?
Don't you realize the outside covers the person within?