She looked like a perfectly normal girl with lightbrown hair and dark brown eyes.
She walks down the street blending in with the crowd,
but people don’t see the things that go through her head.
In her head she is conflicted.
Conflicted whether her family loved her,
if they even cared but, why would they?
She was adopted at the age of four.
She was conflicted whether she should **** herself
because she felt like the black sheep in the family.
Conflicted whether she should eat because, she was a bit bigger.
One day, she wasn’t conflicted anymore.
She knew what she wanted so she put the gun through her head.
Her family found her in the bathroom but it was too late.
She left a note saying, “sorry I wasn’t enough.”
What she didn't know was that her family loved her,
they loved that she was different.
They loved the fact that she was a bit bigger because
she was still healthy and they admired that she didn’t care about her weight.
She was everything that they ever wanted.
In their eyes she was one of them, despite that they weren’t related.
They loved her, and now they were conflicted
whether or not they did enough.