She turns her back, so no one could perceive.
She does not know who she has come to be.
She keeps to herself, hoping they can't see.
Her weakness, her despair. Give her time, let her be.


She once had a dream, that they would see;
the person she was, other than what she portrayed herself to be.
She preferred the darkness over the light.
The darkness was brilliant, the darkness felt right.

It allowed her to breath, it allowed her to rest.
But, it did not fill the void, it left a pain in her chest.


Once in while she walked into the light.
Hoping for the best, ready for the fight.
Cause inside, she knew; herself, she was bound to create.
With a little hope, and a leap of faith.


She was torn down, she was ripped apart.
She channeled that stress through all of her art.


She strived to be different, she strived to be free.
She yearned to love the person she had come to be.
She sat down by a river, under a tree.
She looked at her reflection until she could see.


She opened her eyes to the beauty of truth,
and opened her heart for someone new.
People have came, and people have went.
They had left their marks, she called them “friends”.
No matter how strong the hurt, or how broken the trust.
Her small barrier of hope, has yet to be crushed.


The damage was still there, and the wound still exposed.
But her heart she kept open, never closed.
She came to a realization, she hoped that someone would see; the person she has come to be.