Pictures everywhere
On trees
The walls
Milk cartons and bottles of vino
Mirrors and buildings
Strewn all over the place
Like clues
Some show her face
Other have been slashed up
Eyes
Lips
I see them everywhere
Every day
A normal girl at first glance
With dark hair and even darker eyes
Eyes full of fierce determination
Eyes that tell a story
A sprinkle of freckles
Lips out to entice
And a light scar
Jagged
Right through one brow
Too bright to be a Jane doe
So I call her Vyola
I have a hunch
she is still awake
Around
Walking with a new face maybe
There isn’t much in this small town
A couple of hundreds of people
The majority with no dreams
The young work
working from morning to evening
The weak are forgotten
Not enough schools or libraries
Too many bars clubs and hidden casinos
Money talks
It screams
Its all the world cares about
I don’t know much about her background yet
she came from a family with too many kids and very little money
One meal a day
Broken windows
Dusty books
Yellowed sketch books
Dirtied school uniform
That’s all that’s left of her now
The dad doesn’t care
Mom still can’t forget her
First born
Its been a long time
A pretty woman
Stress and worry have erased a lot of it
But she never forgets to smile
When our eyes meet
Every morning
She spends hours cleaning
Takes only a moment to look at her worn out picture
On my desk
On the missing person’s wall
I am doing all that I can
But I know she has it a lot worse