That little girl over there.
The one with the book,
Her face hidden by hair.
Look at her. Can you see it?
It's the scar, it's the missing meal.
It's the mark of a misfit.
Can you see past her tears?
Can you see past her scars?
Do you see her fears?
That boy did. He saw her in her shell.
He talked with her, he loved her.
He had no idea her life was hell.
He just saw a girl who needed a friend.
He took her hand and smiled.
"This lonliness," he said, "It's time to end."
And at that moment, with nothing left to lose,
She took his hand, stepped out of her box,
And she realized, she had missed all the clues.
She was loved, she was beautiful.
Her heart was changed.
And the world around her was once again wonderful.
But her story was not done.
Her heart was broken for the broken around her.
So she chose to stay instead of run.
She turned to the people that she hid from,
She chose to help the hurting,
Instead of becoming numb.
She held the hands of the weeping,
She hugged the hurting,
And she comforted the grieving.
She refused to turn a blind eye.
She became the person she needed when she was young.
She refused to let her scars die
Without being used to aid another.
Those who loved as deeply as her,
There was no other.