They tell me I’m not good enough.
That I’m too rough and tough.
They say they’re going to change me.
There’s someone else I must be.
They tell me no more ponytails.
Instead we’ll give you fake nails.
They say I must hide my face.
Cake it with makeup to take its place.
They say my clothes are to drab.
Being slutty is much more “fab”.
They say they must have total control.
That I must sell them my soul.
They say I must give up what I do.
I put up a fuss; it’s not me, it’s you!
They say there is no line to draw.
But that was the final straw.
Who I am is up to me.
I can be who I want to be.
You can try to change me, but you will fail.
Because I am keeping my ponytail.