I knew a girl once.
And she was beautiful.
Black hair curled down to her waist,
A comforting word and a pair of kind eyes helped me in the dark nights.
But the others couldnt see her beauty.
They were to concerned about what was between her legs.
They mocked her long hair and skirts,
Telling her to stop pretending and be normal.
She gave up her identity to the blade of a kitchen knife.

I knew a boy once.
And he was popular.
He partied, he made friends, he had fun.
He made everyone feel included.
He helped me in a strange new place,
Helped me find peace in others.
But his dad only found peace in the bottom of a bottle.
Alcohol did nothing to damage his aim,
And begging did nothing to help the sting.
The boy left us behind with the help of the belt that ruined him.

I knew someone once.
They didn't fit in well.
They drew a lot of weird things,
Wrote a lot of bad poetry,
And couldn't quite figure out how to talk to people.
But they loved the rain.
Sometimes they would sit and watch it for hours, perfectly content.
One day, they started a poem.
They wrote and they wrote and they wrote,
And when they were completely satisfied,
They opened the window to see the rain better.
They sat on the window sill, looking out at the pouring rain.
Then they smiled.
Took a deep breath.
And jumped.