Daisy May, dear Daisy May,
Always sweet as apple pie.
She never seemed to frown,
And would never harm a fly.
Under her spell, the boys would fall
At the bat of just one eye.

Straight A’s in school,
Never broke a rule.
Her parents can’t complain.
Bright blue eyes, and flowing hair,
And a smile as convincing as a dare.
But alone she sits at lunch,
And alone she is all day.
This is the sad story
Of the girl named Daisy May.

Under a mask, she did hide
Every part of her that did not abide,
With her fake facade of content and glee,
And everything she did not want to be.
She hated how alone she felt.
She hated how she looked.
She hated how she could memorize every word inside a book,
But the one thing that she wanted was too far outside her nook.
Everything came to easy to Daisy May,
But her plastic shell was slowly cracking,
As she pretended everyday.

She was always praised for her work,
But all she wanted was a friend.
And in the end nothing matters,
Not grades, awards or anything she read.
“Daisy May has Run Away” all the local papers said.
But after this point, no one ever mentioned her again.

No one cared to look for her,
And no one ever would.
She had tried with all her might,
She tried as hard she could.
To hid behind a pen, behind a book, behind a smile.
But that plastic grin could only last for such a little while.

Ten years later, in a tree, near the outskirts of the town,
Some kids found a journal that was worn and beaten down.
The pages were filled with lists and doodles, with poems and fears,
Every page stained so deep, as if it had been cried in for years.
On the very last page, in deep red ink,
A rhyme was written, so potent the words seemed to stink:
“Daisy May is Dead.
She’s hanging from a thread.
All I ever wanted was a friend.”

They never did find the corpse of Daisy May,
But some say she still haunts the tree,
Where she sat alone,
Shed her mask and cried in secret,
Each and every day.