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My hair is not the shiniest of bobsMy eyes are not the brightest in the roomMy figure will not get me modeling jobsMy smile will not bring young boys to their doom.But do I cry and mourn my average face?Or wish that I had boyfriends at the ready?Do I not sleep because I lose the race,Or spurn my food because I don’t go steady?My mind is on a more important thingThat lifts my heart and makes my spirit soarI want to make the souls of people singAnd quiet down the mean and bullying roar.To help the wounded girls replace the scarWith the right to be exactly who they are.
