I have no clue why everyone hates her.

I think she's beautiful.

Her hair is long and dark,

And jer eyes are dark chocolate,

Dulled over by years of bullying and peer pressure.

She's thin with long, scrawny legs,

And seems as delicate as a shard of glass,

A broken, shattered peice of glass.

 The kids in our class are cruel to her,

They curse her, trip her,

And once she was beaten up in the girl's bathroom.

If I could have gone into the bathroom,

To save her, I would have,

But I'm a boy, so I couldn't.

The teachers don't care, either,

They ignore everything that happens,

Only wanting to get through the week,

So they can get paid.

 I feel sorry for her.

She's very creative,

I've seen her drawings in her sketchbook,

She draws and designs beautiful outfits,

Dresses, skirts, jeans, blouses,

And even articles of clothing

I don't think I've seen before,

Does she want to be a fashion designer

when she graduates?

 Sadly, this might not happen,

Right now, she's sitting

On the top of her cousin's apartment building,

Staring down into the alley way below,

Her eyes are filled with tears -

She doesn't think anyone loves her,

She doesn't know I love her.

I always have.

 I can't touch her,

I can't hold her or speak to her,

I can't tell her she's beautiful

And creative and needed,

It's just her, all alone,

Wishing for someone to stop her

And make her happy for the first time

Since her father left her

And her mother began neglecting her.

 "Goodbye. Thanks for nothing."

She whispers to herself as I watch.

I know she isn't talking to me -

No one ever notices or talks to me,

Just like no one ever truly noticed her,

Still, the words stab me in the chest,

Sharper than any blade could ever be.

 Her hand slips, the delicate little fingers

Letting go of the building's edge,

Her long, dark hair flies behind her,

Like an angel's wings would,

There's not a scream, only tears,

Then a loud crack

As her fragile body hits the cement.

 I can't cry,

I can't scream out in pain,

I can't do anything as she lays there,

Cold and unmoving,

I wanted to hold her close and dry her tears,

But it could be.

I could never have her.

           Why?

    Because I'm just as dead as she is.