She's strong. She's brave. She's everything they're not. She's smart. She's talented. She's everything they ever want. Yet they don't see that... One Monday Midnight, she wished to die. She wished to disappear and never be seen. She wished but she'll never be satisfied. Because her worries will always be perceived as sin. One Monday Midnight, she regretted her decisions. Questioned her options but never progressing. She's stuck in the past, holding on to their notions. Yet never remembering to live just for the sake of living. One Monday Midnight, she was working. Trying to balance the studies and duties. Because she's smart and capable in everything. She's to provide for herself and be smart for herself -- it's the definition of beauty. Every Monday Midnight, she tends to her wounds. Hiding the scars on her wrists because she's ought to be strong. She tenses and forces a smile, looking around. Because anyone could be watching from behind her. She's supposed to be strong. So every monday midnight, when nobody sees, She cries out to God, hoping He'd hear her pleas. Because no one lends an ear to her. No one sees the pain inside of her. No one feels the thorns pricking her. Every Monday Midnight.