5 October 2012
She sits alone in an unlit room, A girl of 15. 16 soon. Tears of black run down her face, She's lost people she can't replace.
Just last month, the news came in, They took her too a special inn, Where other children have to stay Until they are adopted someday.
The evening grows more and more. She hears a knock on her door, The Sister comes inside her room, And dismisses the distinct feeling of doom.
Flicking a finger, she gives a light, That isn't, for once, God's great Might. Before she leaves, one thing is said: "Turn it off before going to bed."
The amber glow reflects in the mirror, She goes over to see it clearer, She looks to find her twin instead, Her once-best friend, who now is dead.
Crumbling and crying, she falls to the floor, "What is my life worth anymore?" Famished and fragile, her figure thinned, She felt like nothing more than a ghost in the wind.
Nonexistent; she felt undead, Actually alive, but dead in her head. But it wasn't always this way for her, At a time, good things did occur.
Bright and beautiful, a typical girl, She had a love she thought'd never unfurl. He was perfect for her, and her for him, The days with him were never grim.
The day after her life was changed, She started acting very deranged, And, so, her love decided to leave. The girl was left alone to grieve.
A month in time, she still does, She wishes their love could be how it was, Before the deaths, before the madness, But now she's left with utter sadness.
Once on her feet, feelings pass, She looks at the girl in the silver glass. Sunken blue eyes and matted red hair, The girl in the mirror holds an empty stare.
She tries to untangle the tuffs of red, Reaching her hands to the side of her head, She catches the shadow cast from the flashlight, That looks to be a familiar sight.
She swiftly runs after the sight To the faulty, little, flickering light. Her hand shapes make shadows on the wall, But one after another, she sees nothing at all.
She almost stops 'cause she doesn't think she can, But somehow, someway, she can see a man. The thumb, fist, fingers and all, Quickly make her start to recall..
Her formal love standing upright, A question in her begin to ignite, Giving her one last thing to do: "Was I ever real to you?"
Girl • Opuss № I