When I think of that girl
That girl I don't know
I wonder if anyone knew her, at all

I wonder who cared
Before she was taken

For, in pictures, her eyes looked glazed, prematurely
Her smile looked
Cut
As crooked as bangs

I can't help but wonder what happened, exactly
But, that is never my right to know

Nevertheless

Book deals will be made
Monsters are canonized
Evil is saved

When I think of that girl
I feel the ghost of a knot
In my stomach
A feeling that curls in the womb
A faint whisper of what her mom must have felt
The moment each part of it died

The feelings infused through the telephone line
Fed through that spiraling umbilical cord
She wanted to, but could not
Cut
If she tried

The feeling when they told her where the body was found
The implications of that
The same place had been searched days before
And, nothing

The feeling when they handed remains, wrapped in plastic
The ribbons, the knap sack, the bload-soaked jeans
The baby, the girl, the woman,
The end

The feeling of tragic, insensitive fame
Bodily swarmed by the buzzing well-wishers
With festering crockpots of simmering sympathy
When all you would crave is death's favor in you
To think that your flavor is sweeter
Than that which still clings to the vine
And, must be
Cut

They say she was quiet,
Reserved
That's the best they can do in her memory

She'll never be given a chance to change
I'm just guessing she didn't dress for Halloween
Is this what boiled the blood in their eyes?
Blood brothers, that took her for days at a time
Then before they wasted her, threw her like garbage
To the rock bed of a creek
There, killing all hope
Of an unlikely recovery


When I think of that girl
That girl we won't know
Sometimes, I cry out
Sometimes, I don't
But, always
Always
I am
Cut

I think the influence of TW is alienating me from general society. - to_dizzy