She looked in the mirror at her face, wondering what had happened over the years. She no longer recognized this face. This girl who looked back at her, forever hiding her pain, was foreign to her. Harry and Ron always needed me. I had to be strong for them, not that they noticed, she thought.

Artificial
Like some
Plastic plaything
Sitting
On a dusty shelf
With an affixed
Plastic smile
And staring
Brown eyes
Cracked and dull
From years of trying
To be perfect

Ah yes, perfection. That has always been what she has stood for. No one noticed when she stopped eating. Or that she no longer slept; instead studying books, her face, her figure, everything. Perfection is a fickle thing, she thought as she looked at her ribs. They jutted out from her body, as though they were trying to escape her pale skin.

Someone's love
Their everything

She sighed. After all of this, I'm still alone. I tried to gain his love. Their acceptance. Even being noticed would've been more than I could dream of. But no, I'm still just Hermione. The girl who helped them with their homework. They never noticed the pain behind my eyes. Never cared when I slowly stopped talking to people and skipped meals. Harry even saw my scars my beautiful scars and made no comment. She looked down at her arm and rolled up her sleeve. Her fingers traced the marks her knife had made into the delicate flesh.

Always hiding
Behind a mask
Of careful smiles
And wary words

She murmured to herself against the mirrored glass, fighting back tears once again, "I suppose I did hide, in a way. I never told them what was wrong or if anything was wrong. But they never seemed to care, or never noticed. They'll notice now. But...maybe, they won't. Will they notice when I'm not there at breakfast in the morning, or that I didn't show up at class? Will they notice when I'm not in the common room helping them with their homework? Will they worry where I am or will they continue on without thinking? Will they forget me and leave my body to lie in this tower? Or will they care? Maybe they will. But, perhaps, even the obvious won't be seen."

And sitting limp
When rage is unleashed

She laughed bitterly and continued on, "They never knew about my anger, did they? They never knew how much I hated being me. Living this life. Being ignored, in plain sight, but never seen. Always a sidekick, someone to forget about once the battle was over. Forever forgotten, until the need rises again. But this time they won't have that sidekick, the one who always held them together. They'll never know how much I hate them for not knowing me. But that's the way it goes. I refuse to be ignored any longer. This is my voice, screaming one last time, before forever silencing itself. They ignored the pleas for help. Now, I must help myself."

She took the knife and pressed into her wrist, feeling the familiar and welcome pain. The blood blossomed across pale battered skin reminding her of a crimson flower, to her more beautiful than reality likes to admit. This is my last goodbye. I will no longer be her, that girl who they knew. I will be free, as myself, as I was meant to be. The darkness is so comforting, she thought as she completed her last deed on this earth. Writing in blood, a solemn 'Goodbye' as the darkness closed around her forever, finally shutting out the pain that she hid from everyday. Crying one last tear, she flew away on her wings of starlight as she found her freedom.

And forever waiting
To be released
From this plastic shell
And set free
To live again
And no longer sit
Living
Artificially