Once upon a time
There was a girl
About the age of a middle schooler.
She had problems.
Everyone does, really.
She had friends.
Not everyone had those.
She didn’t particularly like herself.
That was perfectly normal.
She preferred to be surrounded by others,
But she liked herself best when she was alone.
She measured herself accordingly from others’ standards.
That was an average habit.
She didn’t want to fit in.
That made her strange.
But she was too scared as to what other people would think if she went off alone,
Which she often did anyways.
She was fairly smart.
Nothing too special, though.
Her hair never made up its mind on what color it was.
She had a distinct style different than any of the other kids.
Her friends had their own unique styles as well.
Everyone was kind of her friend,
Though only a few chosen ones hung out with her regularly.
She was artsy,
All mixed in one.
All these little traits mashed together
Making her the kind of person everyone saw
As well as the one most people didn’t.
She was a mix of everything described
So that at least one of her many side shone through at all times,
Often jumbled together.
She was a mystery to others.
Any who tried to figure her out
Immediately confused themselves
And were forced to ask themselves
‘Why am I trying to label that?’
She was undefinable.
Almost all her sides shown out to all.
And that’s what made her most likeable.