There once was a girl

who looked around her

and saw people laughing

and smiling together, but

she was not one of them.

The world was grey from where she stood;

she couldn't figure out where

everyone else was buying

their rose-colored glasses.

She tried smiling, it faded.

She tried joining in, they

turned their backs.

She tried not letting it bother her,

but the loneliness broke her heart,

and the pain leaked out on the inside.

So from her grey mountain

she stared down at the golden city

of happy people.

The more she looked,

the darker the hilltop grew,

the harder it was to feel

okay.

So in a blind silent heartache,

she turned her head away from the people

and looked up to the sky.

There, everything was a

bright, nice, sky, blue.

It was a blank space;

there was no one who could

exclude her or

make her feel small.

So she began to imagine new people

with nice, smiling eyes;

kind people who accepted,

lovers who wouldn't leave.

She sang songs with her new friends,

played games and planned futures.

She spent all of her time

up in that sky,

and looked down only

when she had to.

Her mountain was no longer grey;

it was bleached, lifeless,

with no spirit left.

She kept her head up high,

and for once she felt okay.

Down in the city, the happy citizens

forgot about her friendship,

took it for granted that she

didn't want them.

One day, the girl's neck snapped

from looking up for so long.

It fell from her shoulders,

tumbled from the hill,

rolled into the street;

her real people

never blinked an eye.