Piercing Eyes (Pt.1) Poem by Rebecca Springsteen

There she sat wounded,

she already knows that she's always denied,

no good things have come from experience.

The wounds everyone else has inflicted,

she doesn't like to share.

Even her least favorite crayon,

didn't want to play with her on the playground.

Everything will get better with time,

it never did, people look at her with so little empathy.

She can hear them through the laughter,

their weapons.

They poker her and ask where she's been,

the girls around her start crying.

Seeing her ugly face, even you.

They always turn away,

but still her core

burns brighter then their hearts.

Even though her eyes have scars,

they are a piercing white, still.