I stumbled upon an old book, One too wrinkled to make out the name, Too different to remain the same, I opened and read.
They expect you to be plastic, If not then you must be born perfect,
A bit of added meat makes you disgusting,
Showing skin turns you into a whore,
Not showing skin makes you invisible
If you don’t have the perfect body then you’re useless, You can cry all you want but they won’t change their minds.
You try all you want to be accepted by society, So you pick a label and forget the meaning of diversity, Lose all sanity to a crumbling humanity,
You try with all your might to drown your perversity, But its no use since you’ve lost your tenacity.
What makes you you, Is the difference in the color of your skin, The difference in the weight of your body, Your height, shape and curve.
They shouldn’t name you, Or blame you, Or try to change you, Cause you're you,
And who else can you be