A secret that was not meant for ears,

Would be told for many years.

Some whispered words meant for a friend,

Would be overheard and spread without end.

Never wanted to be proven wrong

Even when trapped in a corner

Heart thumping;

Knee's quivering;

Lip's trembling;

As my mind races to cover up yet another

There is so much beneath the surface

of what we are being told,

like cream rising to the top of milk,

like layers in the ocean,

like light filtering in only through the top.

The rest is inky darkness,

The wallflower sits and listens,

in the back of the classroom,

remembering each word spoken.

She never smiles,

never laughs,

has never shown emotion.

I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t let go.

I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t let her true colors show.

The girl who hides her sadness as if she’s wearing a mask

And says that everything is fine.

The girl who pretends everything is sublime.