What is it about me that makes me so undesirable?
Is it the way I laugh,
The way I cry?
The way I often pray to die?
Is it how often I break down,
How often I need to be picked back up?
Is it the way I tell myself I'm okay,
Then rejection is a smack in the face
Tainting my beauty and (lack of) grace
Until I decide to leave without a trace?
Or is it my horrible need for sympathy
The way you tend to always look at me
And shake your head and roll your eyes
The very things that I despise?
Then again, I love to think
I wouldn't be the last chosen on earth
And that there's are girls that could be worse
But this doesn't matter.
It will never come down to a pick and choose
I'll never get the chance to win or lose
I've already lost.
But at what cost?
I've renounced confidence altogether
And I've taught myself to know better
But I never do.
I never learn.

So I sit back
And I allow myself to think
I'll never be loved
I'll never be loved.