A little girl wanders on the street,
her face glimmering with the residue of tears.  
Hazel eyes stare into a world far beyond her vision.
She asks not for directions,
nor does anyone offer them.
She knows her path.
She knows her destination.
That girl is not me.

An older girl walks into a room,
her face glowing brighter than the midday sun.
Hazel eyes glance around at all the smiling faces.
She is not affected by the crowd,
nor is she surprised by them.
She understands why they gather.
She understands why they care.
That girl is not me.

Another girl dashes across a stage,
her face turning a hundred shades of red.
Hazel eyes dart back and forth in the darkness.
She maintains her composure,
and does not let them drag her down.
She is headstrong and proud.
She is bigger than this.
That girl is not me.

A different girl sits quietly in the corner,
her face hidden from those who seek it.
Hazel eyes are hidden beneath eyelids of pink.
She hides as best she can,
waiting to be left alone.
She is angry and unhappy.
She has only herself to blame.
That girl is me.