Has anyone ever written something for
you? You who labors over pages of
raw emotion, who stares at the same
space on the wall from evening sun to
early moon in search of the perfect
word? Have hands cramped and
callused over the hills and valleys of
your name, blistered and cut, not
bothering to acknowledge the trickling
of blood because it quickly turns from
pain into sweet ruby devotion? Have
you ever had your indents caressed?
You know, the deep ones between
your thumb and fingers or the striped
ones on your mid arms from scribbling
scattered thoughts onto weathered
pages? Has anyone ever watched the
way your eyes shine when you think?
Did they see the way you search
tumbling storm clouds for the single
silver ray, or the depth of the soulless
ocean for the glint of golden treasure?
Has anyone ever told you how beautiful
your mind is? How, if the world went
black, you would cherish the way a fire
dances on a wax stage? Has anyone
ever written something for you?
Because I would. I would write you a
thousand sonnets, haikus and ballads if
you'd look at me with those shining
eyes and think of me with that beautiful mind.

I'm that skinny girl at the front,
The one with the glasses and braces,
I'm the one with the pimpled skin,
The one who's colour is like a wooden chair,

I live in the shadows,
I get lost in the stories,
I'm never noticed,
Till my calling comes...

The one who has never seen,
The one who sits beside,
The one with the perfect body,
And the perfect skin,
The one who has no flaw,

Well I may be dark and weird,
I may have some flaws,
But see the other in battle,
She'll fall down like a paw,

For I shall stay and win,
The one who was never noticed,
One day will come where everyone shall know my name,
Not by fear, but on purpose,

I shall live like a lotus on water,
Floating gently along the waves,
But when my calling comes,
I shall be the bravest of the brave.