You hear a little sniffle here a little sob there. It's not the weirdest looking kid crying in a corner, but the school's most prettiest. Her glossy black hair is in disarray, her perfectly dressed up eyes and dark lashes, stream black rivers down her flawless cheeks. She huddles into herself, a tight ball, rocking back and forth not wanting to believe the words people say about her.
Pretty girls do cry.
The rumors start out low, not reaching her, and then they grow bigger and bigger until even her "friends" are looking at her weird. She doesn't understand what's going on, she doesn't get why it had to be her. The people she once called her best friends, go behind her back saying nasty things about her, and starting more of the chilling rumors. She finds herself walking home by herself, to scared to take the bus, and hesitant to have a walking buddy.
Pretty girls do cry.
And try as she might, she goes home and late at night she finds herself crying, sobbing into her pillow playing the horrors of the day through her mind. Re-living images she would prefer to forget.
Pretty girls do cry.
Now she rocks back and forth on her bed, finally realizing what she has done to deserve this. All these years she has put people down who she thought were below her. And now all her cruel words are coming back to haunt her, and it's her sitting alone in the back of the classroom, her eyes trained on the books in front of her, her wavy black hair falling like a curtain around her face. The way she wants it.
Beauty isn't everything.
Because even pretty girls cry.