I felt society's idea of "normal" slipping through my fingers
Like a handful of sand.
"The way God made me" drifted away like feathers.
I prayed to Him at night,
Begging to be more like Hanna across the street.
Hanna's hair was blonde and her eyes were blue,
She was boy-crazy and I wanted to be, too.
My friends gossiped about boys,
And I pretended to be interested.
I only cared about pretty girls
And I was lost.
I turned to pills to dull my thoughts,
But only sharpened my blades.
To numb the pain in my heart
I drew blood from my wrists.
But no one will ever care about
What slowly eats away at
A lost child.