The Real Girl
Look at that girl.
Who is she?
Some people say that she's a nuisance, lazy dreamer.
Some people say that she's happy-go-lucky, and a comedian in a dark and bleak world.
Some people even say she's psychotic.
They'll never know who she really is...
People will never know that she's a love-struck girl who's always dreaming of her crush coming and kissing her senseless, or that she's really not a bore.
People will never know that that girl might just someday grow up to be someone important, someone special.
People will never know her interests, like her favorite colors are all dark colors with an exemption of gold and silver and light blue hues and lilac and lavender, or that she loves to cook and bake or that she wants to be a famous publisher since they think that she'll be an author since she reads so much.
People don't know that she doesn't like being yelled at, or that she hates being clumsy.
People don't realize that she is sarcastic for a reason.
People don't know a lot of things about this girl, no- this young woman (not even her family).
People don't know how much she hates company and loves her solitude and her music.
People don't know that she hates her life so much and thinks about ending it so many times when it gets hard to deal with.
People think that she's psychotic, but she really isn't.
She's just misunderstood with a lot of issues.
People just misunderstand her all the time.
Only I truly understand her.
Why you ask?
Because she's my best friend.
Only I know that her poems keep her grounded.
Only I know the real her.
And now you know the real her too.
Can you keep a secret?
Well it doesn't really matter, does it?
You know that misunderstood teenager?
Who's only 15, about to turn 16 very soon?
Well, her name is "Grey..."
You know why?
Because... No one knows that she writes an autobiography in her poetry...
Her poetry is her life.
And that girl, the one sitting right here looking at the words of her life being written on this paper?
You know, the misunderstood girl?
Yeah, well, she's... she's...
...she's me.
Look at that girl.
Who is she?
Some people say that she's a nuisance, lazy dreamer.
Some people say that she's happy-go-lucky, and a comedian in a dark and bleak world.
Some people even say she's psychotic.
They'll never know who she really is...
People will never know that she's a love-struck girl who's always dreaming of her crush coming and kissing her senseless, or that she's really not a bore.
People will never know that that girl might just someday grow up to be someone important, someone special.
People will never know her interests, like her favorite colors are all dark colors with an exemption of gold and silver and light blue hues and lilac and lavender, or that she loves to cook and bake or that she wants to be a famous publisher since they think that she'll be an author since she reads so much.
People don't know that she doesn't like being yelled at, or that she hates being clumsy.
People don't realize that she is sarcastic for a reason.
People don't know a lot of things about this girl, no- this young woman (not even her family).
People don't know how much she hates company and loves her solitude and her music.
People don't know that she hates her life so much and thinks about ending it so many times when it gets hard to deal with.
People think that she's psychotic, but she really isn't.
She's just misunderstood with a lot of issues.
People just misunderstand her all the time.
Only I truly understand her.
Why you ask?
Because she's my best friend.
Only I know that her poems keep her grounded.
Only I know the real her.
And now you know the real her too.
Can you keep a secret?
Well it doesn't really matter, does it?
You know that misunderstood teenager?
Who's only 15, about to turn 16 very soon?
Well, her name is "Grey..."
You know why?
Because... No one knows that she writes an autobiography in her poetry...
Her poetry is her life.
And that girl, the one sitting right here looking at the words of her life being written on this paper?
You know, the misunderstood girl?
Yeah, well, she's... she's...
...she's me.