All alone in the crowd,
Covering her ears to protect her from the loud.
She doesn't speak,
But keeps her thoughts to herself,
The kind of person who would rather
Live her life on a shelf.
They whisper and talk
About the girl they don't know,
Make a mockery of her like
As though she's a part in a show.
At home she cries at night
About the things that they say,
She cannot make it right.
One evening she finds no way to go one
By morning, she's found
And she's already gone.