I never knew what beauty was until I saw him
With every imperfection,
With every stumble,
and with every stutter,
My heart knocks hard inside my chest
Trying to escape
Hoping to be captured by his warm, calloused fingers.
And you don't even know who I am

That day you bumped into me
I dropped all my books
You helped me pick them up
And I got to look into your eyes
They were a lovely color
Not even Picasso could recreate
And you still don't even know who I am

We bumped into one another again at a party
You slurred apologies and "excuse me's"
And I laughed it off
Trying to Ignore the fact that your hand was creeping on my waist
Your fingertips igniting sparks in my skin
You held your deep gaze with your Picasso-colored eyes
And dragged me into a room tripping over nothing
I thought you finally knew who I was

The next day at school you bumped into me again
You had dropped my phone
This time you didn't pick it up
And you walked away without a second glance or apology
And you still don't even know who I am

I've never liked the word Quiet
The word pulsates through my veins
Clawing at my neck
Flashes in my brain
Etched on my forehead
"You're so quiet."

I sit in the room full of people
Yet I am alone.
They're laughter bubbling up and overfilling the room
Like the cauldron they stir
Full of questions like,
"You don't talk much do you?"
And all I can do is shake my head shamefully.

I want to scream out loud
"Can you hear me now?" I cry out.
I am in this empty cave of oblivion
And all I hear are the taunting echoes
"You're so quiet."
"Speak up."
And all I can do is shake my head shamefully.

We wake up.
Some of us go to work. Others go to school.
And the trees sway in the wind.
People fight. Bombs go off.
And the river still flows.
A man gets killed. People riot.
And the birds still sing.
The world does not stop for anyone.
When you think no one is listening,
Look up at the trees.
Look up at the clouds.
Look down at the grass.
Look down at the sand.
They watch everything we do.
They listen to everything we say.
Sometimes the best listeners are those who can't respond.
A little girl cries for her mother.
The trees rustle in the wind.

She stands there staring at her reflection in the mirror
She wonders why her friends won't go near her
She pokes at her thighs wondering why they're so jiggly
And why when she's eating lunch, the girls are all giggly
She wishes she didn't have such a big appetite
She wants to enjoy the sight when she looks in the mirror at night.
This girl has a plan and hopefully the popular girls will give her a chance.

She stands there staring at her reflection in the mirror
She wonders why her friends won't go near her
She pokes at her hollow cheeks wondering why the boys look with disgust
And why everyone keeps asking why she isn't eating much
Her thighs don't rub together when she walks from place to place
And her cheeks don't bounce upon her face
She wonders why no one will befriend her
And as she walks through the halls, she still hears the whispers
Isn't this what they've always wanted?
She can't please anyone and she's always taunted
She gets weaker and weaker everyday
As she's slowly fading away
She tries so hard but it's never enough
Maybe that's why she has just given up.