In Memory of Her

There it sits,

That lonely doll.

Upon the shelf,

Where it belongs.

 

There she lays,

Beneath the ground,

As the tears

Roll down their faces.

 

All gathered around

Her open grave,

Mourning for what could have been

Stopped.

 

But you didn't care,

And neither did those

Who assisted in the torture.

 

There it sits,

That lonely doll,

Resembling everything she was.

 

From the crazy red locks

To the battered old shoes.

From the patched-up dress

To the fake, painted-on-smile.

 

She took the torment,

Refused to get help.

Until it became

Too late.

 

Now there she lays,

Dead and in the ground.

With family and friends weeping,

Overcome with grief.

 

And there you stand,

A member of the mass.

Tears roll down your face

As you realize what your words have done.

 

She wasn't ugly.

She wasn't poor.

She wasn't unloved.

She wasn't stupid.

 

She was just-right.

As close to perfect as one can be.

Perfect in the eyes of her loved ones.

 

There it sits,

That lonely doll.

Upon the shelf,

Where it belongs.

 

In memory of her.