"Why don't you striaghten your hair?"

"Why don't you wear more make up?"

"Why do you always wear stuff like that?"

 

They ask these questions, because I do not conform to the likeness of them. 

As if they are the flower, I am the stem. 

 

They scrunch their noses up at my views.

Yet they know I have the right to choose.

 

It's "weird" not "unique".

I would be "pretty" if not for my physique.

 

They all look the same, because they all act the same. 

They constantly say, "I'm just playing the game."

 

Society is the puppeteer that constructed them all.

Turning them individually into a hopeless doll.

 

But I rise above it in my own singularity.

They have never before seen this rarity.