Every day’s the same
She fights to find her way
She hurts, she breaks, she hides, and tries to pray
She wonders why
does anyone ever hear her when she cries

Today she’s turning sixteen
Everyone's singing, but she can’t seem to smile
They never get past arms length
How could they act like everything is alright?
Pulling down her long sleeves
To cover all the memories that scars leave
She says, “… maybe making me bleed will be the answer that could wash the slate clean”