From my pudgy round face, to my so called “Carrot Top,” I was always never perfect.
To the ginger spice curls in my head to my hazel beady eyes, I was an outcast and known as weird.
I’m a girl with bobby socks and the one who gets picked on cause of my red-hot locks.
When I look in the mirror all I see is a bony girl covered in polka dots
To my cheeks, to my nose, they’re everywhere
“Haven’t you seen her?!” They’ll say
My milky white skin glows like the moon at night. I just hate how my hair glistens in the light.
People say I’m more of a cherry tea than an orange tinted ginger.
I say I’m an alien.
I hate how I seem so translucent and that I burn easily in the sun. I’m almost red as a lobster.
Why can’t I have fun?
People say my freckles are caramel stars, honey clouds, or lady bugs
It’s not my fault I look this way. I didn’t wish upon this.
I burn your throat when I talk; I sting your eyes when you look directly into my hair. I tease your nose when you believe you smell strawberries. It’s just me.
Hey! It’s not my fault I’m a red head.