She is nothing special
Just a little weird
Always had a pen or pencil
Always had her nose in a book
Glasses that don't suit her
Grey-brown hair and skin that doesn't match
She has pick marks and lines
Doesn't really speak much
Remember when she wore pencils in her hair?
And carried a 'sketch bag' round?
They all laughed
At not with
She had some strange allergy
Skin would barely see the sun
Only had relationships with users
Till him; he was different this one
And somehow, that was worse
But by this
She was nothing
A bunch of doodle and words on a page
A speck of dust to him
Only God knew she felt the same
She had no name to me
She had no face
Eyes no depth
When in the mirror she'd gaze

Always empty
Deep hidden mistrust
A statuette in ink and iron
Raining tears of dust and rust.