She hates her self,
None likes here.
She so out their,
thats what they say.
She not like us,
She ugly.
They push her around,
and talk her down.
She cry every night,
in bed.
They laugh at her,
with their jokes about her.
But when she said something
nothing happen.
She tried of this.
She wants to be free.
She wants out of this.
She trays to look for better days,
but they never comes.
So one night she made her own day come.
Aday of rest as she puts it,
in her letter to all of us.
For her it all went away.
But not for all us,
We did not know what we were doing to her and now she gone.
