Blonde Hair, Black Heart
You see that girl across the classroom
Full of life and laughter
Constantly smacking her gum and twirling her peppy blonde strands
Trying to get the star quarterback to notice her
They say the eyes are the windows to the soul
And that girl has a soul of darkness
And danger
She is headed down a frightening road
With cuts on her wrists like the curves of her waist
As she flips her hair her sweater sleeve slips
Just enough to catch a glimpse into her abusive world
Those slices on her wrists each tell a story
Like when she was eight years old all dressed in pink
Her stepdad would creep in once the sun went down
And he wouldn’t care when she cried herself to sleep
Like when she eleven years old all dressed in purple
Her outfit matched her bruises
That her mother gave to her when she stumbled in drunk
Like when she was thirteen years old all dressed in blue
Taking care of her younger sister
Never once cracking a smile because her heart was too heavy
Like when she was fifteen years old sitting in a classroom
Still dressed in all pink with lip-gloss to match
Constantly smacking her gum and twirling her peppy blonde strands
But now you see the black coursing through her body
You see vibrant red dripping from her veins
And you see death etched in her mind while getting the attention
Of the star quarterback
Nobody notices except me
But whom can I tell?
That is shit I can’t say to my teacher.