They watch me as I walk down the street
They say I'm different, I don't argue
I am different, I acknowledge it
Yet they still stare
We are looked at in such a way,
Like we are disgusting, or should
Be locked away
I wish I had a mirror, so that
They could look upon themselves,
Instead of looking at me, they would
But what would they see?
Would they see the perfect person?
Or would they see someone who would
Rather stare at me?