That girl right there?
The one you call a slur for having a son?
She was raped.
That little boy over there who is talking to himself? He has nobody to care about him.
He is alone.
the old man who sits by those graves all day?
That is his family.
They were murdered.
He misses them.
The women next door you hear scream at night?
She has an abusive husband.
The orphan you tease?
They had parents, but they both died in a house fire.
The orphan barely made ot out alive.
The girl everyone calls 'cake face?'
She has scars on her face from being beaten.
She uses makeup to hide the scars.
The prettiest eyes have cried the most.
The strongest people have been hurt the most.
The brightest smiles have to be forced to hide the pain.
You know us, not our stories.
You know what we've done, not what we've went through.
You think you know me?
You don't.
I am the girl you pass everyday and laugh at.
The one you call a whore, though ive kissed one guy, one time.
The one who is always listening to music.
The one who sings or writes music, instead of hurting others.
The one who is strong enough to smile through the tears and pain, although I cry myself to sleep.
The one who forgets how to love and trust due to the amount of times I have been hurt.
I am the one you think you know.
Do you?
NOPE.
I am Mickaela.
The one who wrote music as the most important person in her life.
The one who wishes for a career in music.
Not for the money or fame.
But for the chance to perform for people who like my music.
I am the one you think you know.
You know my name, not my story.
