For Granted.

Your face was one of many that I took for granted;

Months went by before I remembered your name.

But it seems now the girl nobody knew 

has been forever and always christened with fame.

What a shame.

They claim to have been your best friend, 

and how petty of me to get angry at all of them.

After all,

we weren't close;

I never claimed we were.

I heard about that girl on the news,

I just didn't think you were her. 

What a way to get famous.

Your brown petunia lips

and shiny brown hair

Performing fifteen flips.


Wasn't that your age? 

So much left to do at such a confusing stage.

All we did was eat lunch with mutual friends.

Must all good things taken for granted come to an end?


Guide that inspired this poem: 


Allysa Matthews

Very inspirational and raw

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