A little girl with ten fingers and ten toes was born into this world,
She was just like all the others, a innocent little childish girl.
She grew up thinking life was like this for everyone,
Never did she think she would be what she's become.
She had a head filled with long, blond curls,
With a wish to follow a dream, she refused to be like all the other girls.
An innocent wish to be noticed among all the others with blue eyes,
Now she's shocking people in general, without effort and tries.
She was born into a world she thought was filled with infinite love,
And never did she question the power from above.
She gave her love without reason to the lord of all creators,
And never did she think that He was one of the feared traitors.
She decided to open her eyes to the real world that lies before her,
And to see what all the others don't want to, the opposite of what they prefer.
A minute passes and all of a sudden, she sees it clear as ice,
As she realizes the world is filled with hate, everyone has their prize.
At the age of ten, she experiences pain for the first time in her life,
As the backside of a hand decides to hurt her face and strife.
She had been beaten before, it wasn't that, but this was filled with hate,
After that everything is being challenged, beauty, family, faith.
She wishes she could close her eyes, make it disappear,
But nothing can stop her from crying, no one can stop the lonely tear.
She realizes what she thought she had her whole life, it was all a fake,
She wishes she could fall asleep, and never needed to be awake.
The years passes, she sees it all, and the world falls apart,
And she desperately tries to hold on to the pieces of her broken heart.
She never thought her should could be so dark and filled with despair,
And how could she think this world was good enough to be fair?
One day, she looks into the mirror, and she sees her blue eyes in return,
And she sees them filled with flames, hate that hurts and burn.
The anger inside her grows in a complete, blurry mist,
And it bobbles up inside her, and she hits her mirror image with her fist.
The next day, she colors her hair red as blood,
To portray that her soul is covered in mud.
She avoids the sun to make her face white as a symbol of her defeat,
To portray the red hair again the skin, as blood against a sheet.
