my hair is ugly.
my face is ugly.
my body is ugly.
my life is ugly.
I’m going to die soon.
I haven’t done anything good.
No one will care when I’m gone.
It doesn’t matter.
None of us matter in the end of time.
Maybe some people will matter for a while.
But not me.
Here’s what they can say about me:
She was fat her whole life and took up too much room.
One thought on “Bad Hair Day Poem”
you are wrong…