Come see these scrapings
words she carved in antique wood,
all that's left of a bored young girl
knife-whittled
while she ignored her teachers,
not listening to their meaningless lies.
Look back in time
and see this deaf-mute child
carve her name
into this old school desk.
Say she proved her existence to you.
Pray that someday someone cared.
Tell her that you recognize how hard
she tried to be your savior.
Know she loved you,
never blamed you,
only needed you to take her hand,
remove the blade,
gently stroke her palm against your cheek
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