Author's note: I'm really not good at these types of things, poems and all, but I felt like I needed to write something for Allison because I'm so incredibly angry and upset over what happened so this is me being angsty before I retreat to the land of denial where Allison is happily on vacation in France with Boyd and Erica lalalalala
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There is a girl with blood made of liquid silver running through her veins,
With a heart of pure, solid gold
And skin made out of steel,
Unbreakable, unwavering, unyielding.
There's a girl with a fire burning in her eyes,
With a promise in her heart
And branded on her soul
To be strong, to defy, to protect.
There is a girl who says she doesn't believe in fate,
Who chooses to forge her own path,
Who creates her own code to follow,
A warrior, a daughter, a lover, a friend, a fighter.
There is a girl who is only seventeen years old
Who maybe wishes she could be a normal teenager every once in a while,
Who maybe wants to go to prom and get into college and have a family of her own,
Who maybe dares to hope and dream a little,
To believe that somehow, she will get her fairy-tale ending,
To live, to love, to grow, to be happy.
There is a girl who squares her shoulders and lets her arrows fly,
Who fights until till the bitter end,
A beauty built from liquid silver and solid gold and stainless steel,
Self-made and standing tall-standing proud,
Resilient and brave and loyal and determined
To protect, protect, protect.
(Even with her dying breath, needing to know is she safe, is she safe, did you find her?)
There is a girl who deserves so much more than what life gave her,
Who dies in the arms of the boy she loves
(Like some cruel twist of fate,
A fate that she never believed in,
A fate which catches her in the end, anyway)
As steel turns to glass, fragile and thin,
And gold turns to stone as her heartbeat slows and stops,
As the blood in her veins turns from grey to red, from silver to rust,
As the fire dims from her eyes,
As she grows pale and cold in death.
There is a girl who wakes up in a large, white room
And sees a woman standing on the other side, waiting for her with open arms,
And as she runs to her, as the woman smiles and says I'm proud of you,
She falls to her knees and collapses into her mother's arms and fights back tears until she can hear her mom whispering in her ear that it's okay, it's okay, it's okay.
That she can let go now
That she doesn't have to be strong anymore
That's she's free.
(But she's not really free, she can't be,
Because she can still hear echoes in this strange room
Echoes of her friends down below
Crying and screaming and screaming and screaming
And she's not ready,
Oh God, she's not ready,
But what choice does she have?)
There is a girl who never makes it to her eighteenth birthday,
Who dies standing for what she believes in,
Who dies protecting those who could not protect themselves,
Who dies a hero.
And yet, she thinks to herself,
Breaking down in her mother's arms,
I guess I couldn't be strong and go to prom, after all.
(She thinks she's known for a while now
That it was always going to be one or the other)