I walk into her room, and it speaks to me
She is wishful and hopeful
Says the four leaf lucky clover
Unwillingly so says the paper dolls,
But still very youthful
Too embarrassed for toys
Sleepless and stressed says the fitful bed
Homework, appearance and boys
Brain overload, always filled with dread
All of this says the little journal
Pages and pages filled,
Shoved under the mattress
Afraid and unsure, whispers the teddy bear
Not alone, but only at home,
Reaching out but always withdrawing her hand
The tall girl with the (supposedly) ditzy blonde head