Beautiful

She was beautiful, but in a different sort of way.

Her violet eyes bubbled with unspoken words

That she kept hidden but longed to say.

Chained to the ground like broken-winged birds.

Her name existed only behind closed doors

And cloistered conversations behind perfect hands.

Her face held the shadow of sun as the rain begins to pour

And her clothes were covered with ghostly marks of crayons.

Society put her in a box and expected her to stay

Miserable and weak because smiles and laughter are never allowed.

But than the tape and cardboard fell apart revealing the bright day

And her sentences echoed across the Earth, washing away the clouds.