And there she sits The sad girl with the pretty eyes Almost ruined by her disguise Hating the one who stares back at her everyday Not letting the one beneath the surface Get a word in edgewise. Tired of seeing that same expression in the mirror Looking hard, but it's not getting any clearer Fighting everything, but unable to make what's already there Disappear. Afraid of differences that she knows are one and the same Wishing she could think of another word for this torture Except - "That which we call a rose would smell as sweet By any other name".