She is lonely, waiting patiently.

She is scared of what might happen.

Will it be good, or will it rip the hatred from her?

People look at her with judgement.

While in her eyes;

they all seem like angels.

Something she will never be.

But who am I to judge something that can never be touched.

She is outcasted to a lonely life,

but no one knows how special she is.

Blinded by their insecurity.

Blaming all those who are different.

-Jessica R. Mitchell-