Her alarm goes off beside her,
a rough start to a rough day,
she pulls on the first clothes she sees,
and continues on her way.
The women on the sidewalk,
seem to have life all worked out,
They don't feel the sadness she does,
or her own self-conscious doubt.
She has never been called pretty,
and feels like she knows why,
as she watches the clouds,
and chases their patterns in the sky.
She doesn't want attention,
so she glances at the ground,
as though it has the answers,
that she's longing to have found
Her day's like any others,
Filled with voices in her head,
they whisper 'You will be alone,
until the day that you are dead.'
She walks home defeated,
her bed so big that she feels small,
And she hopes that tomorrow,
she won't wake up at all.
There is now a continuation of this poem, titled "Him"