The sad child does not smile.
The lonely girl does not play.
The lost one never does think
that someone might be looking for them today.

She lies across her rooftop.
She stares at the glassy moon.
She never believes that
something good will happen soon.

She sits upon unmoving swings.
Shadows lurk near.
She knows there's no one to push
but yet she doesn't shed a tear.

She has beauty within,
that no one will ever hold.
She has interesting stories,
that will never be told.
Down inside she does have a personality,
but it will never unfold.

You see, the sad girl does not mope.
She has gotten used to it.
The forgotten one holds no hope,
but that is okay.
For today,
she will climb in a tree
and gaze into the swirling skies.

For the sad child
has gotten used to it,
she is no longer so saddened.
So she shall make no cry or sound,
just sit...
and wait to be found.