When you look at her and her oversized jacket what do you see?
I see the girl that she used to be, shy and submissive to the orders of others, oh how mean they could be
Used to the names that were called out at her, but too weak not to break at their words,
Alone with her thoughts in a room drained of color
Page after page was her get away from troubles
Story after story of assassins and plagues
Of little girls and boys who somehow had always found their way
Realizing that they learned how to bend with the tortures they endured,
For they never broke but rubbed on some dirt
She looked in the mirror with tears in her eyes
Piercing the air with her screams and cries
Crying out "I WILL BE BRAVE TILL THE DAY THAT I DIE,
behold the tale of a girl like me, a girl that can handel anything, that will be me."
So page after page and day after day,
Her mind filled with tales and stories and rhymes of better days
and the darkness resided to shadows, not so lurking and dangerous
but faded and dim from her bedside lamp that casted her stories on the walls of the room
she once saw as a crypt, Her happy place was the books that were always by her side,
for she never again felt so lonely as new stories past her eyes.