She started hating her nose when she was thirteen years old
By fourteen she wished her parents were dead
In the 11th grade she decided she needed to runaway
Convinced that was her only chance to survive
She learned to find pleasure and comfort
In despising everyone around her
Hating all their perfect lips and blemish free complexions
They all read the wrong books
Watched the wrong television shows
They all wore the wrong clothes
She chose to blame the world for her hate
It just isn't what it should be
Like all of us she felt trapped in a world she never made
Like all of us, each and every one of us
She spent her twenties learning to separate
Herself even further from the world
Still she hoped to meet someone who understood
But everyone she met had one flaw or another
Maybe liked a band she detested or didn't read much
Worse yet, expected her to be social
In her thirties and proudly she wears the same clothes
She wore when she was fifteen
Not like all those other idiot slaves to fashion
She still cherishes her private little teenage hateland
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