The Girl With The Looking Glass Eyes
She lives in the house next to mine,
We look sometimes,
We never speak.
I see her each day, on my way to school,
By the window,
Watching,
Wishing.
Her skin is pale, her cheekbones sharp,
And her eyes are slate-grey, soulful,
Like the sky on a winter’s day.
She is unknown, nameless,
Like a wisp of smoke,
No-one knows her, can’t label her,
And so they call her,
The girl with the looking glass eyes.
People see her, point, laugh,
She is different,
They don’t like different,
Never have.
They want a reaction,
Never get one,
As though she feels no pain.
They don’t know though,
And if they did, they wouldn’t torture.
I’m the only one that knows.
About the noises, late at night.
Crashes, screams, swearing,
The bruises vivid on her skin,
My parents don’t hear,
Maybe they’re just pretending,
Or maybe she just isn’t real.
One day I find her crying,
Sharp, yet breakable,
Like ice,
Tears and blood mingle on her cheeks.
I help her,
We do not speak,
But the grey eyes are brighter,
And now when I see her,
At the window,
Watching,
Wishing,
We always look, always smile.
The next evening the noise is worse,
Crashes, screams, then silence,
The girl is real, my parents are pretending,
Turning that blind eye.
The next day, she is gone,
Gone from the window.
No-one notices, no-one cares,
She was just a nameless girl,
Like so many others.
We always looked,
Always smiled,
Never spoke,
I wish we had.
I miss her, remember her,
Just me.
My girl with the looking glass eyes.