Falling Snowflake

There once was a girl who was more than imperfect. More so that the rest of the world. Everyone would try to bully her. The girls, the boys, but she blocked out all of the noise, the sights. She stayed in the closet in the fear that something would come and grab her right out of her peacefulness. Beat her out of her comfort. But there was one thing that she would peak out for. Even for just a second, she would peek out of that closet and pray. She would pray that someone, just one person, would try to help her. And someday, someone will. But no amount of therapy or surgery can get rid of her need for the happiness, the sweet satisfaction of having friends. Nobody cared, and she knew that they never would. But there has to be some sort of light in the darkness, right? That's right, there just has to be. She has to be something. Even if she can't see it, there must be something there. And there is. There is something in everyone, even the most imperfect of people. But what people fail to recognize is that muscles do not make up the strength of one's character, one's personality. And that's the real ugliness, the real sadness of this world. It's not the looks that count, but the strength of the kindness inside of us.