F*ck the Game

anyone could tell you
I was never a raving beauty
even my family would agree

too many freckles
not enough oomph
that indefinable thing
(whatever it was)
that made other girls stunning

think of them as Barbies
and me…a paper doll
not much without all the added extras
and even they left details missing

honestly…
it was me
never comfortable in my own skin
and it showed
I didn’t really know how to fit in

the oddball
ugly duckling
(and we all know how that turned out)
the unexpected…nothing

I had a blue eyed blonde cousin
pretty and whip-cord smart
attracted all the boys eyes
(not that she ever noticed)

everyone placed her above me
praised her lovely…ignored mine
but not her
she told me once…
how she had to play the game
just to be allowed to remain

“I have to play dumb…
so I don’t intimidate
my blonde comes from a bottle…
without it I’m just a mouse
and without my makeup…
I never stand out”

but she showed me…
highlighting my own brand of beauty
pointed out what she envied
and that…oh man…
that shit was everything
because nobody else ever bothered

I thought to myself…
that’s bullshit
if she’s supposed to be “better than me”
and still fighting to be seen…
the system is rigged
there’s no real way to win

I think it’s designed to make us all feel inadequate
no matter what we do…
it’s never enough
who knows what they’ll get out of it?

so here’s my philosophy…
I’m beautiful…
you’re beautiful…
as long as we’re true to ourselves
and that’s something nobody else can ever be

and all the judgers…
can just go to hell