Undefined beauty
Stereotypes tell me thatI’m not this
Prettiest Girl
All the Magazines says you need
This and that to be the most beautiful
Or super skinny chick that I’m not
Perfect if I don’t have any of these things
Well who really cares if I’m
Mrs. Un-Perfect
So what happened to the truth?
Maybe it always been like that
I’ve wasted too much time trying to follow
These so called trends
But here’s to the real me
The one that has undefined beauty
I’m only human making mistakes
Every single day but that’s unchangeable
The truth-lies-secrets of what
The artificial beauty magazines have
Been telling me
I look at myself in the mirror
Not seeing all these faults that every
One seems to spot on right out in open
But really I don’t need your approval
Deep down you is the only person
That knows the “real’’ you, you
Just have discover who you are
First
Why should we be called?
The unbeautiful ones
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