Daylight Phantom

I have seen in my life a kind of person

Lonely, unsatisfied, drifting in the shadows

Cast low in the dirt

Disfigured in the face

Fractured bones drained of marrow

Mishapen like a weed in the cracks

Broken pieces howling as one

She was a whisper of a thing, frayed at the hem 

Clothed in brown 

And at her brightest, a muted blue 

If by some likelihood there was a Great Divine who had authored her life

He had not cared to soften the lines 

Or appease the pain that sat on her chest like a wayward child 

Instead, he granted her this :

Never mind how she tried

But couldn't avoid the turmoil that bled down her walls

So she spun it, with some skilled fashion 

She made it beautiful 

With a hint of irony, she couldn't see that the same could be said of her.