There once was a girl
whose life was hidden.
She hid her real self,
because seeing the real her was forbidden.

She wasn't really noticed,
no one was her friend.
She knew she was going to be alone
until the very end.

No one knew the real her,
the who wished she had died.
No one cared to take the time,
and find out if she cried.

To them she was a ghost,
merely walking the hall.
She was only good for a laugh,
when someone made her fall.

No one looked closely
at her bloodshot eyes,
nor did they pay attention
to her pained sighs.

If they had looked at her arms,
they would see the scars she had.
The scars that kept adding up,
the scars that she made when she was sad.

If they had looked at her legs,
they would see the bruises she had.
The bruises that were made
whenever brother got mad.

But she kept it well hidden,
never was the real her in sight.
She always wore a mask,
only in sheer fright.

They only saw a girl
who wasn't worth their time.
She was worth loving,
and ignoring her was a crime.

But one day that girl
didn't show up to school.
That's when someone noticed
that they were being cruel.

But it was too late
by the time they cared.
Maybe if they had noticed,
her life could have been spared.

This girl gave up,
let depression take her life.
Only by killing herself
did she end the strife.

If people had only noticed,
if people had only seen.
If only people had been there
to hear her final scream.

Now she is at rest,
because her life is no more.
People really notice her
as she walks through Heaven's door.

She's too young to be dead,
too beautiful to had died.
All of this could have been avoided
if people had asked if she cried.

But no one noticed
the girl who was hidden.
Because seeing the real her
was truly forbidden.