Buried Treasure

I used to be an eyesore.
The others got looked at,
but I just watched.
(Too ugly or too fat)

It doesn't really matter now.
I occasionally catch them looking,
but usually it happens when
they've got a scheme cooking.

They'll admire me for my intellect;
want my body for my brain;
but are turned off by my soul.
That's what brings the pain.

Why is it they like my mind
but my psyche drives them off?
As evil as other females can be,
you'd think they'd like one soft.

Would life be better
with perfect measurements?
Flawless hair and complexion?
Fabulous ass and tits?

Would it be better
if I was cold as ice?
Caniving; deceiving;
never to sacrifice?

'Cause everything I believe
is turning into fraud.
All the things that even out
are now departing odd.

The signals I am getting
are against all I'd thought.
Everything one should look for
is everything I'm not.

Lose weight. Spend money
on make-up and hair;
trendy clothes; contacts;
and new shoes, a daily pair.

Oh, but pursue my education.
Gather knowledge for others as well,
but spend less time analyzing
and dipping in the inkwell.

Stop caring about everyone
and giving 'til I drop.
Never cry; always say 'no,'
and demand the bullshit stops.

Become cold and closed off.
Cheat and lie to get what I want.
Don't ask what I can do to help.
Simply laugh, bop, and flaunt.

Beauty may be skin deep,
but people tred at the surface.
Lost, I wander, deep in a void,
searching for my purpose.

September 13, 1994