I remember,

when I was fourteen, 

I found out my friend had been raped.

I didn't even know what it meant 

back then.

My friend,

she was a drug addict.

Living with the trauma.

She looked at the mirror

and called herself ugly.

Her family had no money.

Poor and ugly,

wow God what an awful combination.

She cuts sometimes.

Not even for the attention.

Doesn't tell nobody.

In school she's bullied. 

They call her names.

Awful things. 

And I can't do nothing.

Mostly because,

when my friend looks in the mirror

all I can see is me.