You all give out these knives to a conscience
Hiding behind your computer screens.
Beating me down
Laughing at my expense.
Not getting that I can be who ever the **** I want to be.

So what if I am ugly.
Your personality is too.

Even though I seem to have a solid exterior, an iron curtain around my feelings
My heart is crying.
You don't know where I have been
What scars and pain I still bear.

You call me
Ugly
Fat
Wannabe
*****
Hypocrite
Judgmental
Horrible Artist.

They hurt.
I know you know this.
You just hate me.

The reasons aren't always clear.

But it hurts just the same.