I want to be beautiful.
Is that so much to ask?
I care.
She doesn’t.
Yet she’s the beautiful one.
Everybody loves her.
Everybody wants her.
Nobody loves me.
Nobody wants me.
But is it a surprise?
When no one can see any beauty in me?
Why are the ones who can’t stand to hurt,
And the ones who hurt without remorse treated so differently?
The ones who care, that can’t hurt, no one can see their beauty.
The ones that hurt, the ones we love, are never looked at funny.
They don’t see the ugliness within.
They see what they want to see.
They don’t care about inner beauty.
They don’t care about you and me.
We let them laugh.
We let them stare.
We hide our faces.
They don’t care.
We yell in pain.
We cry in sadness.
There’s nothing left to stop this madness.
Why should they care?
They don’t see,
The beauty deep inside of me.
It is too late for us now, there’s nothing left we can do.
It really isn’t fair; I wanted to be pretty too.