Gali

Once, there was a little girl.

She was around 7 years old at the time,

and lived with her mother and father

in a little red house, in a little green forest.

They made chicken soup on their little stove 

when were you going to tell me

that we were never really friends?

and instead you pretended you liked me

so you could laugh at my tear-stricken face.

all those nights I opened up like you cared

On my sixteenth birthday.

I curled into a ball in the frayed, silk afterglow of childhood, 

She loves everyone,

so everyone loves her.

Even when she's crumpling inside,

She'll always show the side of her

that's always willing to be positive.

When you want to throw your world away,

When people mention women in action-packed situations, they often use the words "fragile" and "pathetic." Like we're glass that might - no. WILL break at the smallest nudge. But you know what is fragile? Pathetic? Their egos.

A ghost of a father.
An angry mother.
A forbidden best friend.
A suppressed love—
A suppressed identity.

Oh, how strange it is to feel alone,
while surrounded by people.

No friends.
Bitter family.