i ain't a too-shabby wannabe
with a tight skirt, headbanging
to some classical music.
i aint a pretty little
thing
see my rib bones,
ibarftokeepunderweight
kind of gal.

i don't "xoxo babe, call me later." 'cause im not someone
who gives two hoots
about you.
i'm not the age you
think i am,
Mr. Gangster Man,
so pull up your pants
i dont wanna see
your drawers,
and keep on walking.
I'm not a snooty blond chick
on a PAT bus, trying to make
change out of a dollar by
ripping it to pieces.
i aint a primadonna,
live in the white neighborhood
witha white picket fence,
and a green lawn.
but i'm no ghetto white girl,
pursing my lips
in every photograph on
facebook.

i'm not a crazed teen down at
Club Zoo, acting wild, getting drunk as hell,
sucking face with some dude i met down the block.

"Oh she's this," and "OH, she's that."
whatever you hear is garbage, trash,
stick it down the sewere
because it reeks that bad.

i don't "Go hard or go home"
so you can kiss this over sized rump of mine,
and call me the Tooth Fairy,
thinking it's all about victory when it's much more
than a simplet rophy.

I'm not religious
in nay sense of the word,
i made me who i am,
and the old man working in the
church
down the street won't change my mind, so why would you?
i can't jump very high,
and people like Clayton and Tyreke say it's 'cause
i'm white.
no. i'ts because i'm short, and cant touch the rim by raising my hand.

i'm not a sappy, heart-throb, romantic
waiting for the day this stupid teenage boy,
with acne and problems,
notices that i'm the girl of his dreams.
i'm no Cinderella
neither ar eyou, and no matter
how much you stare tat that pumpkin
its just not gunna drive you to any ball.

you're not gunna see me,
walking downtown hand in hand
with a nicotine stick, chewing on a piece of bubblegum, with the bottom of my bum hanging
out of some booty shorts.

i'm not some buff guy
in a gym that smells like feet,
trying to make it big
in some atheletic career
that we both know isnt going to happen.
i'm not out to make a scene,
just to get my point across,
so it would be nice if
you'd shut up and listen
once in a while.

i can't put hold on my creativity,
even in JC Pennys,
because i dont care
what your stares say,
and when the sales lady
tells me "Nice moves"
with a sarcastic sneer
i just keep on-a-walking.
i ain't just a girl who is ohsoguyobsessed,
because you know what?
Pink makes my stomach flip,
cheerleading makes me want to roll over and die,
pretty, and flowers aren't part of my
wardrobe.
i waint a stupid teenage girl,
with thoughts and opinions that don't have
support, realization, growth, and any other words
you scrutinizing adults
want to throw into that mix.

I'm not
over used,
fictional,
cliche.
i'm not smudged mascara on a rainy day,
or lipstick stains on a note card that you
kissed.
imnotoverdone.

somewhere over the rainbow
i'm not who i say i am.

but i aint no liar, no cheat
no bogus phony
counterfeit of the real
me.

i'm not a shiny china doll, with
a perfect face
and perfect ringlets.

I'm a girl with frizzy curls,
zits and blackheads.

But who cares?
Because i am a girl who worrys
about my hair too much.
i do wish i was prettier,
and my clothes don't always match!
the things i say don't always have a purpose,
and i like to talk about my feelings.
i do like pokemon,
my teddy bear is my bestfriend int he whole world.
i'm weird.
i'm a freak.
i'm afraid of heights,
i'm afraid of clowns,
and maybe that's why i've never
been to the circus.

So how about you stop pointing out
my flaws,
and wipe of that grime before you tell me
i'm messed up, i'm not
perfect.
Get over yourself,
and take my name of your venom lips.
because nothing is more beautiful than
imperfection.
nothing is more beautiful
than
me.