Now she looks back at it in being on others hands while trying to mend her own ways. She feels ugly when she sees what she wants other people have easily, easily she moves away thinking that she's not enough not enough to feel even petty jealousy. But she is beautiful when the world is up and against her but she shouts her heart out on a paper. She cries and cries but never flickers. She stars and dies through triggers figures of unfamiliar bodies trying to be familiar