The Girl At The Counter

There was something

About this girl

The distant look on her face

Told me she didn’t want to be bothered

But the scars on her wrists

Told me to ask her

For her story

I couldn’t help but stare

As she packed my items

I tried staring at her

Hoping she would notice

And converse

I needed to know

The truth behind this girl

Her imperfections captured me

It was as though I knew

That she was different

She wasn’t like the rest

She was a misfit


She handed me the bag

I wanted to yell out

I wanted to scream

But all I could do

Was nod and walk away

This poem is pretty self-explanatory. Whenever I meet people in general I try to figure out their story and once in a while I come across someone really fascinating like this girl.

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