What’s the reason for seeing myself as so bizarre?
Like a monster who treads the earth, wearing some frightful scar.
What prompts me to feel like something so absurd?
Like one so vile, he should not be seen of nor heard.
Could it be the layers of imperfection which cause the shame?
Or are the menacing words of cruel people to blame?
You know that something is wrong, when you don’t feel right.
You know something is wrong, when it’s easier to be out of sight.
I would like to know why it is I feel this weird,
And seemingly struck by misfortune, so poorly engineered.
Am I really as pathetic as the taunter’s words make me feel?
Are any of these feelings even real?