Slipping so silently it’s almost too beautiful for words,
smile, she once said, smile so they know you are alright,
despite the fire slowly waning in the moonlight.
It’s a beautiful disgrace, the word, the movement,
that lay tattered lines across well-hated skin,
we lived in the moments until the moments left us behind.
And we all shared the stories,
one upping until a tale was told that no one could compete,
of a girl dying to live, so she could be free.
She was the most beautiful of them all once,
with a bright smile that took years to reach her eyes.
Now she lays scarred, looking up at a universe that lied.
Counting stars absently, did you watch her?
Watch her fall from grace in the moment of pure pain?
It was beautiful to see, as it rained from greying sight.
We blamed the melancholy on her, told her to suck it up.
So she did, along with a .22 caliber that gave her freedom truth refused.
She sucked up the pain, with vodka and pills that once chained her,
But we blamed her for her beauty, we still do.
Blame her for not being the same, for daring to hurt,
for dreaming dreams, for wishing on stars to give a life,
to give something worth living for.
She dreamed, and the world answered
by proving dreams are best left for those who were not her.
Not someone so beautifully wrong, imperfectly molded,
into everything we refused to be.
So she left without a word, just a memory.
and it was beautiful.