I look upon the moving crowd

Slowly sighing, looking down

Hurting, fallen, angry, shy

Now I cannot just seem to fly

I hear the Rumors in the halls

Now I get unwanted calls

Glares like ice, they hurt my soul

With hands that slice and Words so cold

Slipping , falling, crying, sighing

Oh my God, am I dying?

Hurting from this pain inside

This is something I try to hide

I guess I cannot get away

From these things that People Say

Even if it is not true

There is not more that I can do