there is a girl i know,
about fifteen.
she always wanted to be
a beauty queen.

i took dance class with her,
one year.
and no matter the bruises,
she shed no tear.

she'd jump and fall,
and roll and tumble.
but she was graceful yet,
never would she fumble.

then, one day, she wore
short sleeves.
and a pair of shorts
up past her knees.

i had asked her then,
why all the scars?
she looked up at me,
her eyes, like stars.

"i'm not your typical girl,
you see.
these things were done
just by me.

i fall, i scar, i cut,
and i cry.
i wear long sleeves
to avoid the whys.

but this time i felt strange,
not needing to be saved.
i felt just that much
more brave.

and here i stand,
with these scars,
as memories of feelings
behind bars."

and i couldn't help her,
for she needed none.
because for once,
she felt like one.
 
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