Why judge her? Are you perfect? Why pick on her? Did she do something wrong? So what if she's fat? So what if she's black? So what if she's short? If she's broke? So what? Does making her feel different makes you beautiful? Does making her an outcast gives you the bragging rights? You don't know her life. You don't know her. You don't know that every night she cries herself to sleep. You don't know that she kept and covered all the mirrors in her room. Why? Because she's cowardly afraid to remember that she doesn't belong. A reminder of her pain and cries. A reminder of what a trash she is. That's her mindset now, all because of you. You don't know how many times she'd cut wounds on her wrist, stains of crimson red blood on her tear-sulked floormat. No. You don't know a single thing. Blind about the fact that you are killing her softly. Why make her feel different? Are you sure, that you, yourself, do belong? Now dear, because of you and your cruel acts, she's gone. Gone for a better place you'll never step your feet at. Ever. Now ask yourself, you mindless killer, do you still belong?
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