Makeup, clothes, fame,

That’s the type of game,

That everyone plays to become ideal,

My looks are made to appeal.

To please society in every way,

I must look flawless day by day.

Underneath this fake charm,

This type of game is meant to harm,

My inner self and bubbly personality,

I’m just one who’s made of individuality,

Without this facade I’m not flawless,

Perfect, appealing, fitting, or aweless.

I’m just an ordinary high school girl,

Who goes through every imperfect whirl.

But isn’t that what makes me perfect?

Straight A’s, hard working, aren’t I worth it?

To society I may be oddly unique,

But to many, I’m the girl who’s always on fleek.