4 May 2012
You look at me, With ice blue eyes, You're picking out my flaws. I'm like a stranger, Isolated, Kept behind closed doors.
You make a point, To pass me by, Yet act like I'm not there. Your little clique, Bleached hair and all, Give me daggered glares.
My hair falls down, My safety shield, I use it just for you. You give a smirk, I shrink away, It's really nothing new.
The 'It' Crowd. • Opuss № I