What Did I Do To You?

Would you stop starring at me and looking for my flaws.
I know I'm a sinking ship,
a disaster without a cause.

I'm no work of art and I know it's true.
But I don't care I don't want to be like you.

You walkdown the hall glaring at me,
but that's nothing new.
I always wonder,
"What did I do to you?"

Is it because I'm me?
Something you can't contain and free?
If it's because I don't care what you think,
well I'm not sorry.