Isn’t it sad, how it’s easier to notice the few flaws we have,
But overlook the beauties we own and qualities that last

We grow anxious about our weight,
And the way we look in pictures that we take
Our minds focus on just the features that we tend to hate

It’s a never-ending, vicious cycle of hiding beneath our fears
Our brains outsmart us, for they hold the gears

We are scared to believe that,
We have any more purpose than to live and die

Cause we believe that we’ll fail, and this means
We need to try

Generations after generations, we are stuck in repeat
Of clinging to crowds who don’t let us free

They tell us who we are
Without letting us choose
They leave us with open scars
Surrounded by a bruise

We are the sick generation, of deciding who’s who
They say to be yourself, but the only option they lack is letting you be you

And if that’s not vile, then please inform me on what is
Because what’s worse than feeling lonesome,
Is being forced to fit in.

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