Untitled Poetry

Three

As tragedy befell her, she ceased to be a person. She was perpetually conceived to live in the darkest part of her brain. She saw people differently than others; she saw through them. She didn't see them as a whole, she saw the tattered remains of their inside, and they saw hers, as if she was truly wearing her body inside out, and her heart upon her sleeve. I was willing to bet that she could see the pale-white bones in their bodies, the sadness that lurked inside of their souls.