no, it doesn't hurt.
no, she won't remember in the morning.
yes, this will impact her later on in life.
she's just a crying girl.
there isn't a clear definition of what she's mourning about. but she's sad. and she knows she doesn't cry about plain nothing's. no. she cries about something's. she shouldn't, but she does.
she's wondering if, just if, breaking hearts or being heart-broken is one and the same and if it's worth it. why do people take chances when they know what the most-likely outcome is?
she stops for a second and pulls the blue and white blanket up towards her chest, slowing tracing the tight flower embroidery and murmuring to herself.
for years she just tried to be herself and hoped someone would like her for her. no one truly did. so in trying to become herself, she became someone else. now she aims to be as different as she can from her inside. the girl is becoming her own oxymoron. she's becoming her own doppelganger.
she hears a rustle and freezes. sounds could wake the monster outside and she doesn't need bruising tonight. no, she just might permanently break. soft footsteps cover heavy blows. she relaxes her tense posture and lays her head back on her pillow.
she's wondering if she should shut her trap and slow her pride. they get her in trouble and she's always saying too damn much. people grow tired of her plain words.
she makes sure the monster is still asleep then starts thinking aloud.
she's this girl.
she's just this girl living in this world, right?
finding a specific niche is too slow to accomplish. she's always been impatient. she's one in a couple billion.
she's wondering if, maybe she matters to someone. if, according to cliche sayings, one kind word of hers would be remembered by a lonesome stranger. she doubts it though. everyone in this world only remember each other from painted faces, not words.
she's just that girl
[who forgets her lovers and forgives her haters 
]
[ with the sin-black bones and white toe-nails]
[with the tousle of dark hair and forgettable eyes]
she's wondering
if living just to piss of those who don't believe in her is worth it.
if the stars do shine for her sometimes.
if taking off their pants and getting down is all people see in each other. will there be someone out there who will want to hold her, not touch her with bad intentions?
why she wants to cut off all her ties with family even though she forgave them all years ago.
why she can't talk and let out that voice she wants people to hear.
why she can't just shut up.
she rubs her eyes and blinks slowly. curling into a ball, she stuffs her face into the scruffy one of her teddy bear's. she sighs and wonders why she's sixteen and sleeping with a stuffed animal named Sparkle.
she wonders why her shoes skin her toes and grind blisters and bubbles into her sole. it makes her think that life is like shoes that are ever so red and pretty, but need breaking down until they're comfortable. she wonders why she associated life with shoes.
she unclutches her bones, massages her brows and breathes softly. she's a girl who's breathing life into inanimate objects. she's just a girl, waiting for something unknown. but she breathes and she lives and she's waiting for someone to come along with answers to all her wondering.
and maybe someday, someone will smile for her and make her day.
but tonight
she's just going to hug her knees tight to her chest and watch stars fall to earth. but she won't wish on them. she knows they won't come true. not this night.