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Title: Ripped jeans

by Roseanna from Lancashire | in writing, poetry

What's with the way you like to stare?

Is it cos of what I wear?

My jeans are ripped,

My hair's a mess,

My dresses are short,

I don't dress to impress.

My shoes are last season,

My hair will be blue,

My coat's the ugliest,

According to you.

What is it with the way you stare?

Is it cos my legs are bare?

Is it cos you think they're fat?

Or is it cos they're thinner than that?

Or is it cos they are too white?

Well that's my colour and white is right.

I don't use fake tan,

I don't have false nails,

My eyelashes are real,

I ain't gotta steal,

My style is my own,

And this is all me,

So stuff you all,

If you hate what you see.

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