Firey red hair,
Blows in the wind,
Without a care,

Are you perfect,
I'm no supermodel,
Though you have the look,
I want,
I envy,
I want to be you,

You get the guys,
Without even trying,
Why does it torture me,
Constantly I'm reminded
Of why I hate myself,

Because you are truly,
Better,
No one even gives me a second glance,
But with you,
They're always in a trace,

Never ending glory,
Flows your way,
And you don't even try,
Why must you be so perfect,
And then brag and boast,
About what most want,
But don't have.

I'll never measure up to you,
Not going to happen,
I won't ever get on your level,
Because I'm not willing to go that low,
No I'll never go as low,
I'm not willing to get on my knees,
Like you do,

I realize,
I don't want what you have,
It's all fixated on lies,
And cries for attention,
You fight for what you have,
But not in a good way,
You try so hard,
To be what your not

I will never be you,
It's all a contest,
A contest I won't win,
Because I'm not willing to try,
To be something I'm not,

I know you and your firey red hair,
Is something I will never be,
And that makes me all the more happy,
I don't want to be someone I'm not,
Even though I'll be considered "hot"
I'll be lying to myself,
And everyone else,
So goodbye to all these faded dreams,
Of what I wanted to be.