A peculiar girl
Angie Beaman.
A peculiar girl.
The outcast, the one
Unnoticed by many.
Overlooked at the lunch table,
She eats alone.
Smart but silent.
Dead.
Mother cries the story:
How Angie acted that night,
How she cleaned the kitchen
Until the floor shone.
Her room was spotless,
Her clothes neatly folded.
Her pale hand on mom’s
Cheek as she softly says,
“I love you, Mama.
I always will.”
Mama finding her
the next morning,
hanging from her showerhead.
Students hug and cry,
As if they knew her:
Infuriating the people that did.
What Angie did was wrong,
But she deserves this attention
She never got.
Advertisement
