The sweetness of the world
At the age of 7, the first sting came to me,
“You’re ugly, stand behind,” I heard, so harshly.
“You’re so fat,” they said with sneers and disdain,
“Have you seen yourself? It’s all just so plain.”
“Eww, you’re too ugly,” their words cut so deep,
“Nobody likes you,” I’d silently weep.
“You’re gross, you’re a mess, you can’t even sing,
Look at her, why’s he even dating that thing?”
“Why’s she so funny? She’s just not right,”
In the mirror, my reflection was not at all bright.
“Sorry, all chosen, the pretty one’s here,”
Henna’s forbidden, or so it did appear.
Yet the pretty girl’s hand, they praised with delight,
While my own was dismissed, though it felt so tight.
“Eww, she’s gross,” boys said with a scoff,
“Fat and undesirable,” my crush would just go off.
“Be quiet, you’re ugly,” my voice had no space,
“You’re not pretty enough,” they said with no grace.
“Get lost,” they demanded, “Nobody cares,”
Too close to your mother, just more unkind stares.
Yet through all the hurt, the cruel and the mean,
I found my own strength, a new self to glean.
For though they were harsh, with their laughter and scorn,
I rose from the shadows, a new self-reborn.
