They announced it on a Tuesday,

The sunlight was warm and crisp in our schools hall.

That a girl I had math with,

Wasn’t coming back at all.

You could hear the whispers and pondering questions,

She was perfect wasn’t she?

What demons and monsters was she fighting,

That we were all to blind to see?

I sat in math that same Tuesday,

Beside now her dusty and abandoned desk.

While my teacher warned us all the consequences of a single fail,

Our final end of the year test.

I remembered once she slowly whispered how envious she was of me,

That despite my failing grades,

I had a lot of happiness even with just a “C”.

I wish I had noticed that however much she smiled,

Her eyes weren’t smiling too.

If I had the decency to ask,

If I could help her while her tiny world was crumbling

Behind her perfect student mask.

And I wonder if on that Monday,

If it was the last thought in her brain.

That the only A+ she could give,

Was the blood type in her veins.