Sunday, September 11

sad little girl

A sad little girl in a big world
Nothing seems to fit
As soon as she rises from the ashes
She gets shot back down by unknown forces.

She might try
She might fail
Trying all the same is a burden
Let her lie down and just sleep the pain away

Pondering about what the hell is wrong with her
Is it her personality? Or her looks?
Or the ways she walks or talks?
She lies in bed, crying every night.

Nobody knows.
No one will.
The sad little girl will never be okay.


It's all in a routine. Every step, every small thing I do, it's nothing but a routine.