I was only eighteen when I realized that I looked like a fool
But never expected it to be this cruel.
These complications in my head
Suddenly making my face turn red.
With the sake of being beautiful and pure
Just shows that we can no longer be immature.
The pain and suffering building up
Can only grant me the touch of love.
‘Get straight A’s and be successful’
But my alter ego is emerging up, making it stressful
‘Be popular! Be pretty!’ they say
Has made my conscience want to go away.
Yet I bring my corruption to this clinic
And let plastic surgery burn inside me.
The horror and terrors are too much to bare,
But remember, it was me who chose that ‘this is fair’.
The day is done
To the point that I think I have won.
But despite the shiny glittery light, you see,
Has now made me disappointed that I’m not that queen bee.
Shame and disappointment across the faces around me
That ended up not even bringing me close to a D.
The gossip and rumors filling my head
Has made me sick inside the emptiness I hold in me
‘Fake, Artificial…’ and so
Left me nowhere to go
I trapped myself inside the hatred I built
That has allowed this huge guilt to follow me around
I ask and ask, ‘please undo!’
However, the surgeon is like ‘sorry, its stuck like glue’
My sunshine and smiles
Are gone for who knows how many miles.
Now I live alongside the loneliness inside
Which I can no longer be successful and have pride.
Being beautiful and high def doesn’t equal fame
Since in reality, it just makes you look lame…