Once, there was a girl.
Everyone disliked her because she
did everything successfully without flaws;
because she was intelligent.
They picked on her because she
was not like the others.
She was matured, smart and perfect.
They said she was fake.
But she was real!
She did her best in everything!
Yet they picked on her
for everything they could not see.
She cried, and cried;
but passersby walked pass,
leaving her bootless cries invisible.
How can they be so heartless?
The people who were once her friends
pretended to not know her.
They left her alone,
in this dark, empty world of solitude.
She wanted away,
away from this fake, lying world!
But she was like a bird,
derived of its freedom in a narrow cage.
Once, there was a girl,
she bought out a clean knife,
raised her wrist;
and ended her torment.