She was always caged. Not by warriors or enemies, but by her thoughts and fears.
She was always hurt. Not by swords or scrapped knees, but by people and the words they spoke–or the words they lacked.
She always cried. Not because of sticks and stone, but by death, heartbreak, and confusion.
She wasn’t beautiful–at least around the others who looked perfect.
She was tired–tired of fake. The fake beauty and personalities that surrounded her.
She was unnoticed–except by the select family and friends.
Though she was caged, she could leave whenever.
Though she was hurt, she had found the best bandages.
Though she cried, she still smiled and laughed.
Though she wasn’t as beautiful as some, she was more beautiful within.
Though she was tired of fakers, she took heart that she knew that she wasn’t fake.
And though she was unnoticed by many, the select few who did see her, were the most amazing people.
On another note, this is my 100th post!!! Thanks for sticking with me, I know I can be a bit annoying at times.