You Don't Know What It's Like

Do you know what it's like
To wake up every morning,
Take a look at yourself,
And begin the scorning?

Do you know what it's like
To be with your peers,
And constantly be reminded,
Of your deepest fears?

Do you know what it's like
To walk down the street,
And see other girls,
And believe you can't compete?

Do you know what it's like
To be surrounded by beauty,
And feel like the opposite,
Of each and every "cutie"?

Do you know what it's like
To look in the mirror,
And honestly wish,
That the end was nearer?

Do you know what it's like
To fail time and again,
To not know what is wrong,
To never comprehend?

Do you know what it's like
To hate the skin you're in?
How can I explain this?
Where do I begin.

All I'll say is you don't know
What it's like for us,
To honestly loathe ourselves,
To see nothing but disgust.

And I blame you, all of you,
For you gave the impression,
That what we are, is nothing,
But a cause for pure depression.

You never gave us a chance
To show you who we are.
All you did was cause
Numerous internal scars.

You're nothing to us,
You're fake and superficial,
We've come to the terms
That you're merely artificial.