a perfect girl,

all pretty smiles,

and glass eyes.

never speaking,

yet always seen.

not a word leaves

her sealed shut lips.

she’s always alone,

surrounded by people.

who knows what she says, 

when no one is listening,

because no one listens,

when she is alone.

so she draws shut the curtains,

closing off her escape.

she shuts out the world,

to see the light.

the thin walls are soundproof,

the soft music loud,

to block out the screaming,

of the silent world.

the book she reads tells of stories,

                 the lies that lived,

the dirt in which they lie,

  and the ghosts that step where they sleep,

green ribbons tied in their hair,

    when she sleeps,

          which ghost will live upon her bed? 

whose roses were laid beside her?

Who placed the lime green ribbon in her hair?

when she wakes up,

will she be alone?

who will listen to her story?

behind her door,

 ghosts scream weapons,

and glass shatters.

yet no one listens when she tells her story.

she sits in her room,

            avoiding the truth,

for when she looks,

 she sees what she wants,

                  but cannot get.

she sees the girl who speaks,

       she sees no one,

for that girl is visible.

and eyes never lie.