If the ugly duckling grows up to be a
Swan, won't we all be happy?
Won't we kiss & smile,
& be so proud
of our lovely little child?
Don't we all just look the other way
If our swan was created by
Poking & prodding, scalpels & silicone,
Surgically implanted above the rest?
And the rest may cry, may die,
In their never-ending effort to become the
Swan we all worship.
They may cut themselves away
With the sharpest knife they have
And there's no reaction 'till they're done,
And only applause if they're perfect;
Because anything less
Is just not enough.