Was...
She was a pious girl, says the Bible
On a pile of books she used to teach
Smart girl too, says the novels and assignments
On the big black desk in her room; devoted to her family
Says the portraits hanging on the walls
Next to the creations made, beautiful like each of the creators
Not much for organizing though, says the pile of clothes
Mounting on her chair and a messy bed.
She was in pain, says the rags
Stained with hydrogen peroxide.
She was lost, says the dark marks
On her paintings. She felt alone,
Says the multiple pillows and stuffed animals
Pilled on her bed to make her feel less empty.
She was blind, says the glasses case
Hiding in her make-up bag. She cared too much about others,
Says the hugs she gave yet could not receive.
She was trying to hold on, says the letters
Written shakily and tear stained.
But she was happy, says the smile,
Big and beautiful behind tired eyes.
She was good, says the promises she made
With a broken heart. She was special,
Says the way she was left behind.
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