With cons on her feet,
And smoke in her lungs,
A guitar in her hand,
And nowhere to run.
She walks down the street,
And everyone stares,
They don’t understand her,
But she doesn’t care.
The one thing that matters,
Is what is inside,
Be your own person,
And show off your pride.
In her old ripped up jeans,
And bright purple streaks,
And nails painted black...she's beautiful


 
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