She pulls out her phone

Fingers slowly scrolling past

Pictures of things she wishes she'd have

She sits there in the chair, alone

Silently trying to grasp

At the fact that she looks half as bad as the girl that just puts on an act

Standing in the mirror broken-hearted

She tries to fix everything she's started

Her hair, her clothes, the way she presents herself

If only she just knew how to work with a personality so heartfelt

With box dye hair to match her black thigh highs

She sits there knowing that society wouldn't comply

With how she chooses to dress

So she resorts to wearing a mask

A worn-out, dishonest, crumpled up mess

Some day she will realize

That maybe being herself isn't so bad

Society likes to advise

That beauty only comes in one form

From the sort of people you'd see on the front of a magazine ad

Go out, be yourself, it's your duty

Present yourself however you please

Create your own form of beauty

Don't give into the artificial products, those are like a disease

Let's change how they judge us

When we show up to audition for a role in a movie