I’ve seen a strange girl.

She has icy blue eyes

And silver hair.

She looks cold and unfeeling,

But I know what she’s really like.

I watch her every day.

I’ve figured out her routine.

She leaves school two minutes after the dismissal bell rings.

3:32.

It takes her seven minutes to get to the park,

The one on the outskirts of our town.

3:39.

She walks for another four minutes into the woods.

3:43.

When she gets there, she sits by the Willow tree.

She cries for eight minutes, occasionally nine.

3:51.

While she cries, she whispers things.

Sometimes she whispers about what the kids at school do.

They say things to her-

Do things to her.

The kids at school don’t like her eyes,

Or her hair.

They don’t see her like I do.

My strange little angel.

I like it when she whispers names.

Names makes it easier.

That way I don’t have to figure out who did what.

I don’t like talking to people.

But when she whispers names,

She makes everything easier.

Someday she’ll do that for me,

Intentionally.

But now she doesn’t realize how much she helps me.

The names she says,

I tuck them away in my mind.

Later, when she’s safely asleep,

I find the people she mentions.

They don’t ever hurt her again.

They don’t ever hurt anyone.