I stopped believing in love,
Cause they always wanted the pretty girl,
The superior image of the good-looking pearl.

I will never understand that,
Cause my perspective of beauty is far from that.
I keep thinking, what is wrong with me,
I don’t have to look like them to be a thing,
I don’t want to change my looks to be approachable.

I like spending my time on my inner beauty,
I don’t need paintings and **** clothes to be pretty.
I actually like myself, the way I look, the way I present myself.
So I’m sorry if she look’s prettier in your eyes,
The whole image of her stuck in your twisted mind.
I guess it’s your loss that you never gave it a chance to get to know me.