She was the youngest of crack babies to a mother of three; the brightest of all the girls in her school, but no one knew it. Not even she could tell you that, especially after that night. She had humble beginnings and never learned how to accept a compliment. While growing up people would call her beautiful people would look up to her but she would never believe it, how could she?
How could anyone look up to someone so miserable? So ugly? So confused? And that night these questions had to be answered. Minutes before her last breath, she would relive every moment and re-walk every step. She would die that night at her own hand, she would go out on her terms for once in her life she would be in control of her destiny.
No one would remember to look for her after that night, but no one who ever crossed her path would ever forget those eyes even if they never really had a name. Those piecing eyes, from which oceans of tears flowed, no one ever saw them but if you had a heart you could feel them. No one could forget those eyes, especially me no matter how hard I’ve tried.
Its been 12 years and I’m still in love with that girl, since I was a boy I loved her but she never saw me, just like she never let me see her tears. She hid from life and I can’t imagine why someone so beautiful would keep her brilliance from a world that needed it so much. The world could have used a little more affection, and I believe if she let her self she just could have been that to the world, love.
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