burnt

The girl in the corner has eyes that'll pierce into yours. She stares at the front of the vanilla and light blue classroom listening to the instructor and ignoring the mindless chit chat around her. No she doesn't care if it's raining out, or if the basketball game is canceled. She looks at you and feels sorry. Your life is a lie, and you know nothing... but you think the tables are turned and she's a senseless but beautiful tragedy, stoned. Her head is throbbing.. possibly from that lack of chemicals she's induced into her own body. But will never admit she wishes she hadn't, but she still clutches her temples trying to keep the dull pain down to a little jolt, wracking her mind for a solution, the same thing she does a thousand times a day. Her eyes are still so very tired, but they're kept up by her well chiseled cheek bones. Her stomach is flat, her face is always calm.. enough to charm any boy to the point of thinking "she'll get the job done."She holds herself like she's full of character, you know she wants something else, not you. If she keeps going the way she is now in five years her mind will be blank. I can see it running out the back door while some substance is snorted up the front. Technology pursues and she is rolled in, frozen in a tank of water, infront of future generations of classes like one of those fetuses in a glass bottle. Her eyes are still bright and opened in the murky water. Her hands are flailing about. Tubes are hooked up to her reflexes and she stares, just like she used to, like there's nothing but everything there. "Do not fry your brain," the instructor simple and calmly states. The kids gasp at the sight of the now specimen, all but one in the back.. one who also jots in his notebook about great tales, one who aspires to be the next Jimi Hendrix, Peter Pan, or Steven Spielberg, a name. And as he writes the instructor calls his name. He looks at her, his hair falling out of his eyes, she sees the same insightful, blank stare and sighs. "I've seen this world ruin too many of the right kind, the kind that can save this world," she thinks in her head and accepts the hex it has on itself. Her eyebrows are perched in question as she gestures toward the girl in the tank. "What do you have to say?" She asks. He sits his pen down and looks at the girl. Short, dark chocolate brown hair floats in the water as her pale and slightly blue head bobs back and forth. Her eyes were big and almond shaped with a slant and even though now they were glazed red with a coating from the water, they were still golden. Her lips are purple, a deep lavendar, and slightly opened. She's blank and empty, he has no idea where she went but he'll be reaching out to follow his whole life. "She's beautiful," He says. More students gasp, or chuckle at what they think is a joke, and look at him with surprise. The instructor folds her arms, lips firm and pressed when her thoughts are confirmed, and burns a whole in his head with her eyes to take care of what nature will anyway; a burnt mind.