Chapter 3: Behind Closed Doors.
Behind closed doors we are not as perfect as we seem.
Mom cries all the time.
Dad yells all the time.
They want me to focus more.
Study harder.
Be better at school.
Perfect my image.
Sit up straight.
Speak with utter perfection.
Too bad I'm not perfect huh?
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PoetryShe was perfect. Well what everyone else saw was perfect. What they did not see was not so perfect. The depression, the jagged scars on her burning wrists and thighs, the tears she wept at night after the fights, the bruises left on her body by her...
