Little characters on the paper.
You don't see the emotion behind the words,
you don't understand why she's crying.

"What's wrong?"
you ask (so blindly; not seeing it's obvious).

She had almost been done crying,
and your question makes the tears come back.
They slide down her (beautiful) porcelain-white face,
ugly streaks that make the skin turn soft pink and red.

You don't know how to comfort her.
(How can't you understand her pain?)
(How can't you see it in her eyes)
(and the tears rolling down her cheeks?)

That's the only word to call you.