Sometimes I feel like what is the purpose?
Is life worth living if you\'re considered worthless in this superficial world where I provide no service.
Who wants to be invited to my mind if on the surface I am cursed and This cursive in my pen is my only friend. These verses expressed cure my introverted. These lines unrehearsed, leaking from insecurities. Help me cope with being so unpretty. I heard that we are visual people, and I\'m invisible, beholders don\'t see my beauty. You are blind to my existence, I don\'t count in your census, I don\'t have a say, I\'m not equal, who cares about my opinion? All I receive is the hate, the heat, the names, the beats, your words, I think I\'m ugly. Either I\'m nothing or I\'m a pinata, hit me hard, your treat, you make them laugh as I fall to my feet, defeated. Who cares? I\'m not attractive and the world adores aesthetics. The worlds my idol, I can\'t escape, I\'m a slave, your the master, I count as one-fourth a vote. Barely heard when my words are spoke. That\'s why I hope you hear the poem I wrote. Because I really need you to know this is how I cope with being so unpretty.