There is this girl in the front of my class,
Who, I swear, I've never seen do anything but laugh.
She's tall and she's smart, beautiful and strong.
And when someone's down she tries to fix what is wrong.
How does someone so perfect,
Feel so insecure?
As to scar her skin with cuts and burns
And still want to hurt more.
How does someone so loving,
Learns to hate her own guts.
Drawing a picture on her arm with a blade
As if her mind isn't dark enough.
There is a girl in the front of my class,
Who's eyes are glazed over like newly cut glass.
The ghost of a smile hints at her face
And she laughs as they tell her
''Who's on first base''.
How does someone so perfect,
Feel so insecure?
As to scar her skin with cuts and burns
And still want to hurt more.
How does someone so loving,
Learns to hate her own guts.
Drawing a picture on her arm with a blade
As if her mind isn't dark enough.
There is a girl in the front of my class,
Who's so sad that you find it rare to see her smile or laugh.
Her friends tell her jokes like the one with that guy,
But all she does is close her eyes and enter her mind.
How does someone so perfect,
Feel so insecure?
As to scar her skin with cuts and burns
And still want to hurt more.
How does someone so loving,
Learns to hate her own guts.
Drawing a picture on her arm with a blade
As if her mind isn't dark enough
For her imperfections.
There was a girl in the front of the class,
Who yesterday took the breath that was her last.
She wrote a few notes:
"I'm sorry I didn't say, but my mind was messed up.
You couldn't save me anyway..
And to the girl in the back of the class,
Who feels the way I did:
How does someone so perfect,
Feel so insecure?
As to scar her skin with cuts and burns
And still want to hurt more."
