She was always top of the class,

Smart,

Sophisticated.

An author to be, and a friendly face to all.

People liked her,

But she was never popular.

She didn’t want to be.

Friends were scarce, but she was friendly always,

But she hated ‘nice’ as a trait.

Too plain.

Crushes came, exams went,

She loved life

Or she loved her dreams of life, at least.

But no matter how good her life looked to others,

She felt alone.

No best friend, no dates, no four am deep talks,

Just alone.

It wasn’t that she wanted things that way,

But sometimes we don’t have a choice in life.

But when she felt a love,

No matter how tiny,

It made her feel like she had a one.

Gave her hope.

She fell so deeply,

That when she watched each love find their own,

She died.

Her heart shatter again and again,

And there was nothing she could do.

You see, in all her life she seemed happy,

But her life was like a tightrope of tricks,

And with each she felt her self losing balance,

Falling,

Falling.

Because in all her life she felt alone

And no one corrected her.

She fell so hard for all of them,

But never did they return it.

Love is love,

But love is cruel.

That was the only lesson she ever needed to learn.