Lookism, is not a phase
And much like racism, it just can't change
Genetically cursed to live as lacklustre
I'm a moth, I'm not a butterfly who flutters

You look at me through society's lenses, yet we're the same
We're all so basic, yet feel high enough to blame
They insult you, to the point you wonder why you came
When you don't fix yourself they perceive you as "lame"

And the worldview of beauty is truly some mistake
Why should we bother struggling we're not the ones they take

"Too fat, too weird, too bland, too short"
Can't seem to understand but I just don't reach the court
"Too placid, too queer, can't stand, we underhand" Does anybody fit into the small % of insatiable?
Unattainable
We long for that which hates us,  the only feeling sustainable

We will never see that viewpoint of the "gods"
With over-sexualised individuals with irresistible bods
We compare ourselves to the principles of mold
We hate everyone as a result as we slowly get cold

Here's a short riddle

Ugly ducking, he's a duck who was a goose
But he was amongst a few ducks so he went loose
His very own kind couldn't love him for his looks
He wasn't "different" as they used him and abused him with their hooks

Even the animal kingdom believes in hierarchy
You're not unique, or special, you're feelings locked in a sepulchre
It's not your race, your manners, your personality or your culture

Look at yourself and find your own beauty
Don't stoop to seeking simple pleasures, wondering "Are they into me?"

i read to you six chapters of
my favorite book and i looked at
you at chapter seven to find you
asleep

"we can just be in each other's presence." you said
you look so beautiful
just being.

everytime i look up
i see your eyes on me
and they're beautiful.

I’m sorry that I’m the problem.
Oh let me tell you I’m sorry for being the way I am.
I’m sorry that I like you and I like her.
I’m so sorry that I want you in my arms..
I’m sorry that I can’t change.
I’m sorry that I create issues.
I’m sorry that I fight for what I say.
I’m just sorry that I disgust you.
And I’m sorry that other guys who do the same.
Get called better names.
I’m sorry instead of playing with a taken person, I stood my ground and walked away.
I apologize for like women, in the selfish, self serving, greedy way
That only I can.
I’m sorry for respecting, at every endeavor, to walk away.
Yet still yearning for them to turn, and off their hands.
I am sorry for being lonely, strange, weird, annoying.
I am sorry for being human.
I am sorry that your feelings matter more than mine,
I am sorry that who I am gets lost in the shuffle.
I’m sorry for arguing, for fighting, for not denying certain truths.
I’m incredibly sorry for this pain I feel, not even knowing you.
I’m sorry that you felt the need to isolate me.
I’m sorry that you don’t know me.
I’m sorry that I’m needy.
I’m sorry that I push too hard, as others don’t try at all, or try much harder.
I’m sorry that I don’t look that good.
I’m truly sorry for all my knicks, mis-intentions, and flaws.
I’m sorry for this stupid poem, for venting.
And, gosh, I’m just so sorry, that I’m nothing at all.

Except the jokes on you. I’m not sorry at all and neither are you. If you read this, you’ll blink nary an eye, all your suspicions will be true. What a creep. How uncomfortable is this feeling, in my seat.
Hypocrisy is a wheel, lookism an ideal, and people like me, the pieces that don’t fit.
Truly a sorry lot, all.