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What's wrong with me?

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Can you give me mask to cover my face,
to hide my flaws,
to rid of my imperfections.
What's wrong with me?
Am I really that horrible?
Do I really look like that such a hideous monster?
Just shun me like the rest of them do.
Just leave me like everyone else.
I know I'll never fit in.
I'll never be the superficial cheerleader,
or the football quarterback who throws the winning pass.
I'll never go to prom,
I'll never feel the raw, passionate feeling with another person.
But I know that I will be me.
Myself.
So can you please tell me:
What's wrong with just...me?
I know who I am,
and I know my own self.
But can't you look beyond the flesh,
and just see me.
Who I really am.
Who I'm happy to be.
And once you do I know you'll see,
Nothings wrong with me.





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