That girl who sits in the back of the class,
do you see her? Do you know she’s there?
Or is she invisible, a blank canvas that has yet to be painted?
She walks the halls, an empty canvas.
Sliding her way through the people.
But you don’t notice, as no one does.
No one notices a plain, blank canvas.
Teachers try to ask her, ask her if she’s okay,
so she paints on a smile that only fades away once they’re gone.
She’s lost, confused, and all alone,
but would rather bury it beneath her canvas.
She runs from people, problems, fate,
and still she stays an empty canvas.
That girl who sits in the back of the class—
she exists; she is not an empty canvas.
You just don’t know her yet.