loud poetry from a quiet girl

184

she found beauty in things no one else did,
writing it all down.
taking careful notes of her surroundings.

they thought she was strange,
ripping the pages out and reading them.
throwing the crumpled paper on the ground when they were done.

she was outraged.

"you've killed them."

they looked confused.

"the flowers, in between the pages."

"they were already dead, you foolish girl."

"things die twice.
physically,
and in thought."

"you don't even care about the pages?"

they tried once more. 

"I cared about the flowers."

"why does it matter if they 'died in thought'?"

"you obviously don't know the power of thoughts."

(This was so so so so so bad sorry)