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Jacky, Age 14, Kent, WA

I know a bunch of insecure girls, who seem like a bunch of roses,
Elegant like a flower with multiple poses,
Simple at times with a delicate structure,
Negative all the time thinking no one in this world loves her,

Thinking they experience hard times mixed with misery and pain,
Or at least they claim it to be, when itís just like rain.
A little bad weather, that wonít even kill you,
A little bad rain, that wonít do anything but fill you,

And these flower girls are just somber and morbid,
Attached by ugly things in life disregarding their own portraits,
They can win in life but instead they choose to forfeit,
And continue weak actions that my grandmother would've forbid.

Their lack of dignity can be compared to torn petals,
Shriveling from broken dreams that roam unsettled,
Yet, even though these flower girls strive through very hard lessons,
Inner beauty still exists way beyond first impressions.

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