they announced it on a monday,
in our school's old sweaty hall,
that a girl that i had math with,
wasn't coming back at all.
you could hear the silent questions
she was perfect, wasn't she?
what demons was she fighting,
that we were all too blind to see?
i sat on math that monday,
beside her now abandoned desk,
while our teacher warned us not to fail
our fast approaching test.
i remember she once whispered
that she was envious of me,
my parents knew the work it took
just to get a simple B.
i wish i'd noticed earlier,
or had the decency to ask,
because her world must have been crumbling
behind her "perfect student" mask.
and i wonder if on that sunday
it was the last thought in her brain
that the only A+ she could give
was the blood type in her veins