She came from out of town,
Her peers constantly beat her down.

They nag her for the way she dresses,
Not understanding why she expresses,
Her love of the Beatles successes.

She wishes she was a ghost,
For then she wouldn't have to hear her classmates boast.

About their shiny new cars,
Their parents bought without a pause.

Her mom made her ride the bus,
But she never made a fuss.

She aches for a single friend,
One she might lend,
Her vinyl copy of Let It Be.

Her day was going swell,
Until someone decided to propel,
Rotten eggs into her freshly cut hair.

She went home that day,
And decided not to stay.

She took her black belt,
And hung herself until she had not felt.

Her mother was filled with regret,
For not knowing how her daughter was upset.