By Julia Justin, Class : XII, School : Presentation Convent School
March 14, 2018
They said she was not pretty,
That no one would look at her twice.
But then they only saw the scar on her face
While I saw the radiance of her smile
They said her voice was harsh,
As shrill and brittle as crushed glass.
But then they only heard the sound,
And not the love the words spoke of.
They said her hands were dead,
As dead and black as coal.
But then they were not there to see,
When those hands killed themselves for me.