Two years old.
And she has a gap-toothed grin.
And bright eyes that could light up the world.
A giggle that could warm anyone's heart.

Seven years.
And she has fits.
She doesn't get along with the other children.
She says they don't like her and pick on her.
But really, she pushes them away.
They wouldn't understand...

Eleven years.
She keeps to herself now.
She can't trust anyone.
They wouldn't understand.
She belonged alone.

Thirteen.
Her first kiss.
Her first boyfriend.
Her first breakup.
Her spiral begun downwards.

Sixteen.
She has loved.
Loved with all of her heart.
And she has been broken.
Perhaps beyond repair.
But she knows that she is broken.

Tomorrow.
Tomorrow that girl turns Seventeen.
And that girl is scared.
Scared to death of what the next years would bring.

Seventeen.
Growing up is not what it's cracked up to be.