I used to be that girl,
the one you made fun of,
the one you mocked.
I was that girl,
the one you laughed at,
said she was ugly.
I used to be that girl,
the one you avoided like a plague,
called her wierd,
or was it akward.
I was that girl,
the one with no esteem,
the one that cried day and night,
because of what others thought.

I am no longer that girl,
no one makes fun of me,
instead am admired.
She is not me anymore,
no one laughs at me,
instead they laugh with me.
Ugly is not my title any more,
men break necks when I pass.
I am no longer that girl,
am now sorrounded by people,
people who think am unique,
not akward.
The old me is dead,
my tears come with joy,
and esteem seems to be my second name.
       $angila$