Scars

That girl that sits in the back of the classroom, quiet, almost as though no one knows she is there. She sits there hoping that her peers aren't judging her, anyone who passes cause her to breathe hard. People say awful things about her, "I heard she sleeps around", "do you see that she is wearing the same thing again", "she is only gay because no boys like her", well you know what they are all wrong. This girl has been beaten down to a pulp, they only guys she "slept with" forced and raped her, she wears the same thing: jeans and a tshirt because she cannot afford to buy expensive clothes, she is gay because she fell in love with a girl. You cannot judge someone by how they look on the outside, so many are the complete opposite. That girl in the back of the classroom comes from a broken home; filled with anger, empty bottles, and wasted dreams. The nights she is left to care for her sister hiding in their parents bedroom, because there are cops at door. She fights everyday to have a smile on her face because she is left with scars on her wrist and on her heart. So you see that girl in the back of the classroom is me and I am not what i seem.

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