She was the girl with the pencil in her hair
And with her always completed homework.
She would always raise her hand,
Even if she didn’t always know the answer.
She knew she was smart as she would always say,
“It’s hard to find a boy who likes me for my brain.”
She would always bring me soup when I was sick
And always tell me what we did in class.
She would always call me at the end of the day
To see how my day was and if she could make it better.
She was the first one to say,
“I love you.”
She always got mad at the little things I did
Until she had enough and walked out the door.
She left me in my own washed out village
Where I was left to scramble for my sanity.
She would always tell me,
“No one will ever be good enough.”
And with her always completed homework.
She would always raise her hand,
Even if she didn’t always know the answer.
She knew she was smart as she would always say,
“It’s hard to find a boy who likes me for my brain.”
She would always bring me soup when I was sick
And always tell me what we did in class.
She would always call me at the end of the day
To see how my day was and if she could make it better.
She was the first one to say,
“I love you.”
She always got mad at the little things I did
Until she had enough and walked out the door.
She left me in my own washed out village
Where I was left to scramble for my sanity.
She would always tell me,
“No one will ever be good enough.”