Why must you dissect every blemish upon me?
I am not who I appear to be.
Hereditary nonsense blinds your shallow opinions.

I will not allow myself to be shamed for something I did not create.
My body is deceitful, and vile.
It fools you with the same trickery,
showing you something that means nothing.

They struggle to piece together opinions with so little information.
Two categories.
Ugly.
Beautiful.
Labels easy to bestow, and nearly impossible to remove.

Your poor vision makes you cruel.