Four-eyes! say the ones with perfect sight. Fatso! yell the skinny ones. Weakling! say the strong athletes. Ugly! hiss the blue-eyed blondes. What brings this torment from the ones Who think they have no flaws? Is it custom set in stone Or written in Nature’s laws? Who are these, the perfect ones, Who have all that they need? Are we a threat to their existence? Is that how I am seen? Am I truly inferior To the leaders of our world? Or am I a little duckling, Till swan wings be unfurled? I am the misfit, short or tall, With glasses, or crooked teeth. I may be fat or thin, but still, What matters is underneath. Your words sting me, my heart they pierce, The pain won’t go away. You shatter all my confidence, Then blithely walk away.