Plain and quiet, a girl with no name.
Who was dying on the inside, but showed no outer pain.
She wasn't like the rest, she could never be.
She felt unloved, she was never called pretty.
She tried to be what she hated the most,
So maybe someone would show her some love.
Forgotten, rejected, and on her own,
Loathed those who had cut her to the bone.
Each night her pillow was filled with tears,
Each day her shoulders carried all her fears.
Alone she sat, ridiculed by all,
Her heart was heavy, she felt so small.
Burnt out and broken, She couldn't take no more,
Lost with out feeling, her wounds were sore.
Until one day, the light did shine,
and on that day she did feel fine.
She stood up and found her voice,
her name, and with her life she had a choice.
And if you look, and you will see,
that plain, quiet girl, that would be me.