She haunts the hallways,

and a gnawing desperation haunts her.

She drifts from person to person, classroom to classroom,

tears of pain streak down from her dark eyes.

Her lungs are filled with the piercing screams of desperation,

a plea for help so loud it should make ears bleed.

They wave and smile at her as she passes by.

They ask her, "How are you?"

and she responds with an unintelligible wail of anguish.

They nod their heads and smile, going into detail about the latest party,

not hearing a single sound fallen from her lips.

She haunts the hallways,

and she is haunted by the hope for a better tomorrow,

that never seems to come.

She wanders through a sea of faces that can see her in plain sight,

but refuse to look at her.

Her heart squeezes with the excruciating desire for someone to hear what she says,

to hear her screams for help.

Her eyes burn like coals from the tears.

She is broken.

She haunts the hallways,

and defeat haunts her.

She sits alone on the floor as people continue to walk by.

In the place of her screams is silence.

Her eyes are blank and hollow where the pain used to burn,

a broken doll easily discarded and forgotten.

Her tears are replaced with bitterness,

listening to the footsteps of the people she once loved

who wouldn't look at her,

who wouldn't listen to her,

who wouldn't help her,

She is a picture of expired desolation.

She haunts the hallways,

and she is