If the scares on your face don't explain,
Who put you threw all this pain,
Oh for it is me it seems I'm going insane,
Chiseled chin,
Ribs painted on your skin,
Forget about the anxiety, remember Goal… society,
Wipe the tears that run down,
Now repaint the face turn into a clown,
Do it for Society they shall be proud,
"For what is that, " is that belly fat
The legs shall be thick,
Not sticks,
Now belly horizontal,
A Glass coke bottle,
For the but must be round, with a couple extra pounds,
How I know all this time to 13, but I guess somethings are better left unseen
LP.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is horribly beautiful, I wish it was my own and it clearly shows how one can be lonely inside a crowd.