There she stood, wherever she stood,

Whether closed in a roomful crowd or the souless woods,

Hastened with fear as if being judged by politicans

which felt like how Judas did during condemnation.

She was the generator of her own fear

"did my eyeliner smear?" as she hid a tear,

Her friends thought she was too extreme,

and society thought, "who was she trying to please?"

But this was no show, just simple woe

From a girl that hated herself head to toe.

She was an isolationist with little words,

because she had a bad hair day, every day,

even with her gorgeous curls.

One day she felt the need,

to let go of the negativity and to write her own creed.

She wiped off the foundation of insecurity,

and like a crystal she shined with true beauty.

Now as she passed by the crowds on the street,

other girls thought, "if I were that pretty, woundn't that be sweet."