Hope in the Mourning

2 | a b i g a i l

There's a girl you're seeing
As she walks through the halls.
You witness her dirty hair and jeans
But never you hear her wailing in the stalls.

She has a name like you
But you don't bother to know it.
Her circle of friends is made of few,
And the line of her shirt has been ripped.

You don't know why she's hated
Yet you join in on the rants and nasty phrases.
I'm observing from afar and have debated
Whether or not you monsters care what the case is.

What you don't see is the reality behind this girl.
You only see what's on the outside and nothing more.
But I see the shine in this girl's pearl,
And unfortunately she doesn't care anymore.

Her hair is tied up in knots
And she leaves it that way.
Her youth has been casted as lots,
And she's tossed her joy astray.

Take a moment to look into her eyes
And see the exhaustion she's concealing.
What you see will take you by surprise
And you'll scream in sorrow at what she's feeling.

At night she's taken against her will
And beaten for refusing.
This is all part of a coward's sick thrill
And she has no say in choosing.

She leaves her body the way she wakes up,
And her decency is bruised under the pale.
Yes, her heart and sanity has been corrupt.
But you don't care—

Because she's

Abigail.