I feel them staring at me,
Throwing judging, loathing glares
Because I'm not what they think I should be,
Sometimes they remind me of bears.
They're judging me because of my clothes,
How I look in these jeans,
This isn't the type of body I chose,
But they all look like they came from magazines.
They make me feel so self-conscious,
I'm not comfortable in my own skin,
To fit in I should make myself nauseous,
I'm only a quarter of the person I could've been.
Deep inside of me I know they're right,
I don't fit their definition of beauty,
They make me want to end my fight,
Maybe then they'll realize their duty.
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