She hated the world.
She hated the sunshine, she hated the moon.
She hated that flickering lamp in her dingy bedroom.
And most of all she hated the way that she hated herself.
At night she would try to run,
but her fears would take over.
She would climb out of her window
into the darkness.
She wandered the streets with her hands in her pockets
and her mind outside her head.
She stayed away from the beam of the streetlights,
afraid the world would see her.
She let her beat up black high tops lead the way
as she roamed the desolate streets.
The cool night air would ruffle her midnight black hair,
and the only thing heard was the shuffling of her feet on the pavement.
Her black high tops would turn on different streets every night,
but always end up at the same place-
the bridge overlooking the train tracks,
a place where it's noisy and peaceful all at once.
She would pull out a cheap plastic cigarette lighter
and burn her carefully written poems,
written on carefully folded paper.
She would watch as the glowing paper drifted down towards the tracks.
She would turn away,
once again following her high top sneakers.
She would look up at the sky, disgusted by the bright stars
but even more disgusted by herself- the midnight girl.