Standing in
the thinderstorm.
Letting out my scream.
No one hears me, they
see right through my gothic
body. Glares and evil
whispers behind my back,
it's a sign that I don't
belong here. Seeing my
scars, they have a unique
story behind them. Each
scar represents hatred, anger,
depression, and loneliness. I
get judged on my looks
but not who I truly
am. I'm a living
dead girl, that's who I
am and ever will be.
