She
She was the weirdo of the class, Kicked by the boys and made to cry.
The girls shunned her, "You have nasty teeth." they teased her.
"Your father ran off the second he saw the ugliness you were."
She sat alone day and day, as their words bruised her.
But I never ever did, I never bruised her or kicked her as they did.
For I knew what she was.
I had seen her once, by the flowers
pushing her motionless mom in a wheelchair
butterflies dancing in her hair with a smile on her mouths, a smile made of pure gold and courage and strength.
I knew she was brave, if merely the others did
they would have loved her as I did.
YOU ARE READING
Beautiful Madness
PoetryThe Lonely Poet Love Letters to the wolf princess in blue Him and Her I write to pour out my feelings and my imaginations some of my poems may not make sense, but what is "sense" really? This is beautiful madness. Enjoy. Or Not. Victor Forna
