Never the first choice
Not even the second
Always been funny
Without even trying
Thick round glasses
And a very slight lisp
Made me a great wingman
But always alone
Then I got taller
And rounder and Paler
With acne and oil
Glittery clothes and purple robes
But all of a sudden my bubble bursts
And my funny bone breaks
Into inconsistent fragments
Of sadness and a lack of confidence
My love of life began to bleed
And the pounds start to shed
Blonder and brighter
Demented and fun
I lost myself
Did what they wanted
Wasn’t what I wanted
Not what she wanted
I was public domain
The sadness made others happy
A project, a fixer-upper
They use me
And abused me
Still not the first choice
Not even the second
I’d rather be the third
All things considered
