She walks down the hall where everyone stops and stares.
She knows what they're whispering, but she doesn't care.

She sees the pointing fingers, and knows the rumors that follow.
But she is completely untainted by people who are so shallow.

She hears the words as they're being hissed,
"I hear tale she cuts her wrists"
"Let her die, she won't be missed"
"She's just one of many on the list."

"In our world, she's nothing more than a glitch.
Yep, she's just another little emo bitch."

Of course these words will cause her pain,
but there's one thing that keeps her sane.

In return to all the hatred that comes her way,
she herself has a few things to say.

"Judge me not by what I do, don't judge by how I look.
You're never supposed to judge, by the cover of a book."

"What does it matter if I cut my wrists? Or wear all black, or cry?
Why do you care if I have no flair, or wear black around my eyes?"

"Inside, I am human, just like any of you.
But you don't bother to look that deep, to see if that is true."

"You only see the clothes I wear, and the scars that mark my wrists.
If skin deep is as far as you can see, then your words I shall dismiss."

"You'll never know me well enough, to know if it's all true.
So go ahead and believe I'm another emo bitch, if that's what humors you."