Judge

Why do people judge me on what they think i am?
i wish they'd just ask me just try to understand.
they go by what i look like, make-up, clothes and hair.
but judging people like that, it just isn't fair.
we can control our looks, the day we are born.
the most we can control, is what clothes we have torn.
blame your looks on genetics, your mom and your dad.
what you see as ugly is making you sad.
who did we decide, to give the responsibility too?
to tell us whats ugly and pretty for you.
not to be cheesy, sound dumb and queer.
but the insides what counts, the pain in each tear.
don't call us ugly, gay or bizarre.
we might be different but we are who we are.