She treads through the halls,
In the midst of a swarm of classmates, friends.
They greet her with smiles, but fail to see her;
She’s invisible to all, a ghost.

The buzz and cadence of their voices fall upon her ears like
A thousand cicadas, bouncing off again, never able to penetrate
The blanket of still ice that envelops her;
Confines her.

Her hollow eyes, empty, fixed ahead,
See nothing.
Her feet shuffle, scrape forward automatically; she wills them to, but
Her knees cannot straighten for fear of snapping.

The world cruises on around her, surrounds her,
Closing her in on every side, without crossing
Her cold blanket that
Keeps her shivering while others zoom ahead comfortably.

Her spine aches, yet she keeps her shoulders back,
Head high,
Pace steady
While inside, her thoughts race, repeat, collide against her dizzy, weak brain, bruising it with the force.

And she never stops
Perfecting her life, her studies, her body
Until one day there will be nothing left
For her to perfect.

But until that day,
The weary dead girl will walk, hobble, crawl
But never stop
Her march to nowhere.