She is the one you see
Staring back at you,
A crowd mills around, all
Faces engrossed in their own being.
She is a part of them,
There, but just on the fringes ---
The one everyone accepts but
Still, happily, cannot yet absorb;
Not quite one of them,
Yet filling the photo frame;
She is detached, and lonely inside,
Secret longings and hidden passions
Make her body of torment.
She wants to express it all but
Finds a mute and silent outlet,
And the crowd washes away,
Like the rustlings of leaves, dead
On the class room floor,
And she still sits there.
Smiling back at you.