The Fight.

Armed with crude words and lies,
They march into battle against me.
Each with their own ideas of whom I should be.

This is the worst form of torture;
Close enough to touch but out of reach.
Like a star my happiness is;
An unattainable beauty I can't help but seek.
But I'll still dare to dream.

I can hear their whispers.
Do they think that I am deaf?
It's like they want to beat me down,
Till there is nothing left.

But I won't let them see me cry.
Won't let them see me break.
Even though it's much to hard
For even the strongest kind to take.

So I'll keep on smiling,
My vacant,empty grin.
And ignoring the hurtful stares.
Because if I don't love myself,
Who out there would dare to care?