I am a misfit, but I don't really care,
I don't even mind if you stand there and stare.
I know in my heart what I am really about,
If you stand there and laugh, please don’t mind if I pout.

My shoes are all grubby, and my hair is dyed blue,
I don’t mind if you hate it, because that is just you.
My face is all wet, from weeping out my days,
My makeup is running in several ways.

If I walk down the street, they begin to shout,
“Does anyone know what she’s really about?”
I could shout, I could scream,
But I am rarely that mean.
I would tell them where to go!
I would yell, “You don’t know,
That I’ve already gone through hell,
That the tears are starting to well,
That you would never understand,
That I didn’t have it planned.”

I might stand there and cry,
And you would never know why.
For the wounds may be healing,
But the guilt is not leaving.
For today I am just ‘I’, and never again ‘We’,
Tomorrow I am alone, the one and only 'me'.