Your thumbnails are very beautiful, I’m sure you think so too;

You must be very proud of them, gorgeous, pink, and small;

I can tell you love them very much, because staring at them is all you do.

In fact, do you even know the color of my eyes?

I know who you are, and the story that your eyes tell;

You are not a mute, but your mouth has never uttered a single hum.

What a strange tale, the story of the girl who was silenced in a soundless spell.

A spell only cast by those who never listened, no matter how loud she would yell,

One that could only personify through endless trials and turned heads.

No, not silence, I don’t sense such in her gaze,

Not silence, but hopelessness, born from the darkness in which she treads.

Slowly, her senses begin to drift away, even when I speak her name.

She only looks up for a moment, then turns her back on me,

Just like others did the same.

I guess ignorance is contagious.

But in that one quick glance, I saw her thoughts, her feelings, her dream.

I have never witnessed such mass chaos.

She was screaming at the top of her lungs, setting everything she can aflame.

Throwing paints of all colors on the walls, she was unrestrained.

Inside her head was when she could be loudest, and she exercised that for all to hear.

And finally, at the end of the day, she would collapse.

She would finish her scene; exhausted, only to burst in tears.

“CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW!?”

Teachers, peers, family… she hasn’t had the attention she desires more than anything.

And when she tried, no one listened. And eventually, she became nobody.

She became an apparition, blending in with those who are just like her, with nothing.

It seems more and more are birthed every day.

I pitied her as a human, and believed he WAS somebody for some time.

We would speak once or twice, but apparently that wasn’t enough.

She wanted to stand out, even if it meant selling her body for a dime.

Just like everyone in High school, she wanted to be somebody,

But unfortunately, only few are selected, and the rest are ignored.

I want to say that I am different, but oh, how hypocritical am I…

…I don’t even know her name…

…It seems that I am the spellcaster...