When you grow up ugly, you learn to doubt:
No one actually wants to be seen with you.
They only speak when you have something they want:
Belongings, smarts, or labor.
That, or they seek to mock:
"Look, isn't she pathetic?"
"Oh, she's absolutely hideous!"
"I wouldn't be caught dead in something like that."
But deep down, I know they're right;
I'm disgusting, worthless,
Not owed anything.
I don't need kindness; I don't deserve attention.
I cannot expect praise when I have so little to offer;
Even if I was praise-worthy, asking for love
Is just entitled, selfish, and demanding.
And so I'll be quiet, keep my standards low,
Accept whatever I can get,
And know I don't even deserve that much.
It's all my fault, after all; I can blame no one but me
For my lack of interesting traits and abilities.
For the responsibility lies solely on me;
Clearly I deserve their words, and thus it's not cruelty.