The hope of love.

She hopes for help, she's the one in the window looking out. Her voice so soft her touch caring. Her body is fragile. Her breath is cold it gives you  shivers down your spine. Her eyes as hazel as colors of autumn. She look in the mirror, and she yells tells it to leave. She never can have that part of her life the ways she wants. She does what she loves then she hates it. Hate's what it makes her become, so she makes it come back up again and again. In till she can handle the sound nor sight of it anymore. She yelps for help from god. But her call is not answered. Is she forgotten is she the awful sinner. Is she so hated she can be helped. Would you help her? Would cure her from this disease?
All she has ever wanted is to be loved to be shown that she is beautiful in her unique way. And to show herself the beauty she withholds.

As she lays to rest she sheds a tear for her body that she hates so dear.

The girl in this story is story is me. It's my life my times. Just beautiful me.