On the outside she is plain,
unremarkable, unnoticed.
No one cares to see
the radiant, vibrant soul within.
No one cares to know
the witty intelligence of her mind.
They leave her alone,
friendless, frightened.
Frightened of a world of malcontent,
of the unasked for animosity.
She hides in anonymity,
her only shelter.
Once, she showed it all,
bore herself completely
to a greedy audience of piers.
The response was so much worse
than she could take.
Laughter.
Plain, drab, blended,
she survives.
Plain, drab, overlooked,
She is Suicide.