The world would finish a million rotations,
Around on its axis a thousand times,
But our source traits never alter.
We want to be someone else,
And look like someone else,
Be like someone else,
And never accept ourselves,
That’s our major blemish.
I can’t modify myself,
I loathe myself,
And yet, I’m told to be happy with myself,
And yet, I can’t change myself,
What an impasse.