Tears of Fire
By Sarah Christensen
Tears of fire roll down her face
Burning her as they stream
Pain, pain, pain
Scream.

She screams.
She screams at the world.
She screams at the world and everything in it.
She screams at the teachers,
Her parents,
The homework,
That tree,
The Sun,
The water that spilt on her that morning in class.

But no one hears.
Because it was only in her head.
She's in pain, but no one knows it.

She screams again,
This time a little bit louder.
She makes a tiny sound.
People turned to stare at her,
To judge her,
To laugh at her,
To call her weak,
Or a baby,
Or the outcast that has no friends.

More Tears.
Painful, burning tears.

Everyone still staring.
They’re starting to whisper.
They're Whispering about possible reasons WHY,
She could be crying.

But no one knows.
No one knows why she's crying.
Why?
Because no one asked.

They made assumptions,
Rumors,
Reasons to stay away.

But not one of them came up with a reason to ASK.
To ask why she was in pain.
To ask why she had tears of fire burning her face.
To ask.
All they had to do was ask.
But they didn't.
They never asked.

But it didn't matter.
It didn't matter that they didn't care enough to ask.
They didn't need to.

All of their lives went on.
Including hers.
She kept on living,
Almost every day with a smile.

She doesn't hold these feelings in,
She lets them run free,
Pen gliding on paper.
They make shapes,
They form words,
They create amazing art.

This is who she is now.
An amazing artist,
Filled with different stories to tell,
In many different ways.
But in the end,
They should've asked anyways.