The Singer

There was once a girl who could sing beautiful songs

In her head.

Walking lonely on the sidewalk she would quietly 

Whisper the words to an anthem that

Blared in her mind louder than the cars on the street

Rushing by her.

She sang her songs quietly to 

Herself as she worked,

Humming an incoherent tune 

To the music that her brain had put on

Record for her.

And people laughed at her. Her songs, her 

Beautiful music and the 

Wonderful words that they could never hear. 

And she smiled to herself and kept on 

Singing. Because the people could never know that 

Her Melodies could turn gray skies into

Rainbows, 

Her Harmonies could turn rain into 

Bright, shining sun. 

She sang through all the bad things.

She sang when her parents fought.

She sang when she saw people cry.

She sang when she walked past the homeless man who slept under the bridge—

The one who fought in the war.

She sang when people told her to stop, because they didn’t know.

They didn’t know that she could never stop singing.

And they would laugh

And scream

And cry and

Make fun of her.

And still she sang.