The OnePencils in her hair,Some tucked behind her ear.Bags and darkness beneathe her eyes,Dirt under her nails and scrapes upon her skin.With laces frayed and soles worn down,Her day begins.It's just another endless trudgeThrough the sea of the world's dust,From home to school and back.And each day is a new struggle,Shaded with gray and black.She could've had lunch with Lucifer,And been enthralled with his wily tales.She could've played in the shadows,As the lost souls wailed.But she didn't.She could've thrown herself upon the alter,She could've emptied out her soul,And been cleaned with lamb's blood.But she did