Stop.
Push my buttons 1, 2, and 3
Test me, push me, the truth you will soon see,
At the end of my rope is more than what society says,
But to be different is suicide so we hang on by poisonous threads,
You look in the mirror and hate what looks back,
We are raised from birth to be weighed and measured for self-attack.
Stop.
Is beauty defined by who vies to hold my hand?
Not by the intelligence and strength of who fears not to stand,
to stand when the whole world may be pushing them down,
but holds their head high as if balancing an imaginary crown,
I know not what it feels like to live in contentment,
Save me, I'm falling in the abyss of resentment.
Stop.
Would you love me if I looked more like what you see on the screen,
If I was taller and smaller, built like a queen,
Why is it that I chase for your approval,
the cure to your poison is permanent removal,
Surely men want more than just glory,
Is this all there is to my potential love story?
Stop.**
Speak of the devil, You show up once again,
and imprint your mark in permanent pen,
There is more to me than you will ever know,
Because for some reason I was lost at hello.

You may see my rhymes as the kindergarten act of A, B, C
but stop and push my buttons 1, 2, 3.