I tell her she's not perfect, 
I tell her she's a failure, 
I tell her to be stronger 
for others to obey her. 

I tell her she's too wide, 
avoiding the idea she might cry. 

I tell her to change, 
but within a seconds 
she starts to whimper 
with dust in her eyes. 

She felt miserable, 
she felt shame, 

I took another look. 

Her tears were flowing down, 
her eyes began to be covered 
in clouds. 

She sobbed and sobbed, 
her vision became more as fog. 

I told her 
to shut up, 
for she is not strong. 

She looks down and wonders, 

Where is she? 
The one that was so pure? 
The one that made dark rooms twinkle 
and doubts burn? 
The one who didn't bother what the world says,
where is she?

--Sherlyn V., 7th-8th Grade