The sickenly, small, pale girl beside me silently sobs into her cold, clammy hands once more.

Her thick tears blot and smear the inked letters upon the clean, crisp paper in front of her.

I am trying to ignore her.

Watching the old, lousy, teacher unenthusiastically gesture and speak,

Hearing the restless, ignorant children happily laugh and chatter,

As I paint colorful, happy images inside my empty, blank, barren mind,

Anything to ignore her pain,

Her suffering,

Her hurt.

She was beautiful--once,

An alluring, precious, delicate flower swaying and dancing in the delightfully cool breeze,

Her color and demeanor brighter than any other flower in the lively, lush field.

But now she is wilting—

Wilting within the humid, polluted, suffocating air,

Hanging her meager head down in shame,

Wishing she had made better choices,

Regretting watching life-changing opportunities slowly fade away into nothing but dust.

Guilt,

Sadness,

Grief,

All have caused her pain, loss, and sorrow.

Within her contented, peaceful life—

They have made her tired,

Tired of hoping,

Dreaming,

Living.

I feel the urge to reach out my hand and touch her—hold her,

For I know she needs love, compassion, and empathy that only humanity can gift.

But I also know as soon as I carefully place my arms around her skinny, delicate frame,

I will be sucked into her endless blackhole—

The void that has caused her so much pain and loss,

And I, as well, will become hopeless and unsatisfied.

Turning my head back to the front of the chaotic classroom,

I continue watching the old, lousy teacher unenthusiastically gesture and speak,

Hearing the restless, ignorant children happily laugh and chatter--

I cringe as the girl´s sobs rack her tiny, fragile chest and echo around the noisy, spacious room.

And as I intensely stare at the ancient, dusty clock lazily ticking on the stained wall,

I clench my hands as hard as I can around the edge of the scarred, wooden desk in front of me,

Feeling my own empty and guilt ridden void consuming and devouring my selfish soul, 

Loathing my own egocentric choices,

As the hopelessly, broken girl beside me continues to grieve hers.