2004

She storms away.
Just as they were about to yell her name.
The reflection in the mirror is false.
If only they could feel they way she feels.
She actually feels nothing at all.

The paper and pen is all she has.
The music and the downer thoughts.
She can’t seem to get them out of her head.

“She is a failure.” they said.
Not in person but in her head.
You will amount to nothing.
“You will end up like them instead.”

Broken hearts.
No fresh starts.
Mean words.
The screaming could make you deaf.
This isn’t what she wanted.
But what she got instead.
Tear stained paper and a cold bed.
“Nothing but a failure.”
They always said.

Always alone.
She had no friends.
They all left, abandoned her.
For something better.
She wished the days would end.

littlesara

Angry thoughts sketched through the beige paper.
“I wish I could start over.”
“I wish I could start over.”
Page after page.
Same phrase after same phrase.
She wanted nothing more than a fresh start.
To wake up and simply start over.

The yelling and fighting increased with time.
They didn’t understand her.
Thought she was selfish and always lied.
Being 14 and not knowing anything.
This world can suck you in and spit you out.
The people you are stuck to surround yourself with
can tear you apart.

Broken hearts.
Mean words.
Always alone.
Notebooks.
No love.
Her heart was cold as a stone.

Her biggest fear was to turn into them.
Her biggest fear was to never find love like them.
Her biggest fear was to relive those moments.
Her biggest fear was to give up, on life, on love, like them.

Her reflection in the mirror was still false.
The smile she presented was still a lie.
The secrets she kept were behind her eyes.
Being 15 and trying to figure herself out.
They still thought she was selfish and continued to lie.

Flash forward: 24 and still not knowing anything.
The reflection in the mirror is not false.
The smile she presents is not a lie.
She still holds secrets behind her eyes.

She walks away just before they said her name.
Such a sad little girl.
Such a shame.

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