I felt society's idea of "normal" slipping through my fingers

Like a handful of sand. 

"The way God made me" drifted away like feathers. 

I prayed to Him at night,

Begging to be more like Hanna across the street. 

Hanna's hair was blonde and her eyes were blue,

She was boy-crazy and I wanted to be, too.

My friends gossiped about boys,

And I pretended to be interested. 

I only cared about pretty girls

And I was lost.

I turned to pills to dull my thoughts,

But only sharpened my blades.

To numb the pain in my heart

I drew blood from my wrists.

But no one will ever care about

What slowly eats away at

A lost child.