A violet gown and messy tangles hair as she walks down the dimly lit streets while those in pearls and their hair neatly combed with there rich beige gowns look down upon her. Purple, she hated the color, the name, the way the rich looked at her for it, like she was a freak, Her messy tangled hair and the dirt on her face never helped the looks end for they only drew more attention to her. The gown she wears haunts her, for she knows what others think of her for the shade isn’t as rare as beige or even tanmay be. As much as she despises the color,it’s all she can afford. She wasn’t born into a rich family and in the world and place she lives in, purple isn’t rare nor expensive. Years ago, in England and France it had once been a sign of prosperity, but now she only wishes it were the same. Those years ago, nobody would have looked down on her , for the color would have brought her all the joy in the world. But that is purely the dream of a poor girl with nothing but a raggedy purple gown.
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