I'll tell you as story,
She was different,
I'll tell you why,
She lost love and all hope,
She cries herself to sleep,
The heart can only beats,
To the hollow that it holds,
She doesn't have to cut herself,
Because the pain she feels are more permanent,
Like a disease slowly eating her up.
Let me tell you more,
She was surely different,
Her family was all fine,
Her parents are good,
They didn't have any money complications,
But she couldn't fit in,
Always a stranger to her own house,
A foreign place to which she calls home,
Telling her that she's just thinking too much,
And the problem was with herself.
I'm going to tell you more,
She was not like others,
She didn't cry or ask for help,
Not even for a little light for the day,
She held it all in,
Accepting all her hate for herself,
She expressed them in words that which is for no one to see,
She would lay wake on her bed all night thinking what was wrong,
Even when she sleeps; She was not free,
Her nightmares are equally worse.
I'll tell you her better part,
Or at least some part better,
She has her friends,
At one point she felt like she was in a group,
Like somehow there's a place that she could fit in,
But as time flies,
They started to know her,
And they didn't like it,
They started to hate,
Her so called friends would backstab her,
Even when she already has her back against the wall.
So there's nothing much to tell,
She just doesn't belong,
Being with her own mind,
Which she didn't understand herself,
Always trying to figure out what's wrong with her,
Looking out for the worst of everything.
here is a piece inspired by Natalie Mervin's Complication, as a support for those self harming victims. Hers was so much better and mine is about even a good surroundings could defect someone.