The wallflower sits and listens,
in the back of the classroom,
remembering each word spoken.

She never smiles,
never laughs,
has never shown emotion.

I am a perfectionist. Even a simple task will take me a long time to complete. I often overdo things and when something is not faultless, I will hate it. I never turn in a project that isn’t exactly the way I want it.

You see, I’ve been on both ends, the smile and the tear,
But still I stand after all of my years,
Perhaps a little wiser, maybe stronger too,
But I’m still nowhere close to what I’m meant to do.
And although I seem generous and incredibly kind,

They called her Little, but Little was big. Little was tall, with stooped shoulders and an odd, loping gait. Mostly, though, Little was lonely.

She was like a dandelion in a field of perfectly cut grass—bright and beautiful to some, but ugly and unwanted to others. 

I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t let go.
I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t let her true colors show.
The girl who hides her sadness as if she’s wearing a mask
And says that everything is fine.
The girl who pretends everything is sublime.

Who am I?
     I am a puzzle. A million words and thoughts and ideas, feelings that fit together.
     I can maybe identify some of them if
                              I look hard.
     Some I have no idea what they mean.
     Some are small, invisible.

People hide in the darkness of the day
They see it happen but they stay away
But today is the day that I speak up and say something
Being brave, not afraid
Taking a chance and stepping out
Being heard not reticent
Standing up and speaking out