She laughs it off without a shrug. Her gleaming eyes don't tear or tug. In her room she cries aloud Loud sobs that and heaves her radio clouds. Her young mind swirls. She tangles her dyed blonde curls. She always cries, but never tells them she's hurt. Why do they care if she's a slutty flirt? What's it to them? When they really weren't true friends. Do all boys get their way? Who's to say, but the rumors never end. Boys will be boys, and they never ask her name.
