They tell me I'm not good enough
Too short, too fat, too crazy
Your curly hair seems eccentric
And you will never fit into society
I must wedge myself in between
Society's grooves
Like the knots in a board of wood
Only I'm bored,
My hair is in a knot
And the groove I seem to fit in is the
One labeled "weird" by society.
Perhaps I don't fit in that box
Packed in so tightly I
Can barely breathe.
So they tell me to get thinner
Get smaller
And perhaps
Don't even exist