Actually, this is my homework but i would like to share it in this entry.

Ugly is…
Broken is…
Different is…
the new beautiful.

There are many names that the world has given me.
The weirdo, the loner, the weak, the outcast.
If beauty is not talent, but being included, and harmoniously blooming into a flower, you can go do that.
I’m a monster.


So what if I limp, walk slow, or stop?
So what if I’m a lot more behind than the expected result?
So what if I become lonely because my dream is something that can’t be cheered on?
You whisper behind my back.
What are you looking at?

You’re not ugly
The world’s standards are too high
You are beautiful.
You don’t know me, you can’t see me
It doesn’t matter, I like myself.

You’re not weird,
The world’s standards are too straight.
We are beautiful.
We can be different, we can go crazy.
Cuz we’re the new beautiful.

The world’s fingers pointing at me, only trying to give me orders.
It’s an irregularity, not a foul play, so why am I the only one who gets a yellow card?
I’m me, you’re you, you look at me with different colours, only.