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Rated: E · Other · Emotional · #1674432
This is a poem of sorts. It's meant to explain that perfection is only an illusion
Henrietta was my definition of perfection
When I was in the second grade
She was the pretty eighth grader
With all the friends
That girl that always won awards
She was nice too
No other eighth grader was nice to little kids
No other eighth grader treated us like friends
She spent an entire recess with us once
We played the best games
I’d never been so happy to be found in Hide n’ Seek
That recess will never be forgotten

When I was in the eighth grade
I remembered Henrietta
I wanted to be remembered the same way I remembered her
Spending recesses with younger kids was a regular habit for me
My friends thought it was weird
They didn’t understand
I didn’t bother to explain

When I was in the eleventh grade
I took a peer mentoring program at school
Students in that program helped high school freshmen
Our job was to make them comfortable
I was reminded of Henrietta
She probably entered this program
Henrietta was going to make something of herself

When I was in my second year of university
I saw Henrietta again
Her face had been engraved in my mind
There was no mistaking it
It was Henrietta
Living on the streets
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