You see this picture, I was only seven years old. Now they call my name in the juvenile court. You listen to my mother, when she tells she lost control when he set the house on fire, and burned her vulnerable soul. And now I'm locked in a cage. I can only go to the gate, and turn my back on it. And carry on to play my game. They came to bring me my little yellow bird. I'm glad when I'm alone, and no one comes to my room. I think I hate my father, to live such a miserable way. He's just a bad example, he hurts me so don't make me stay. And now I'm locked in a cage. I can only go to the gate, and turn my back on it. And carry on to play my game. I paint my face in different ways. I have a mask for every day. I paint it blue when I'm depressed, I paint it red when I'm devilish. I'll make you think you can't get hold of me; a painted face, that's what you'll see. (Anne)
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