Misfit Poem by Autum Foster

There she lay, late that night, a misfit with intention,
In the mirror what she saw, she thought required redemption,
How could she correct this imperfect soul?
Silently she whispered, 'You have my heart to hold'
She hated her look, the misfit she was,
She hated her life and all that she lost,
She never meant to do what she did,
All along, from the truth she hid,
There she lay, late that night, a misfit with intention,
The crowd just started, stalled in fright, but still held in suspention,
This would be her final curtain,
Her final routine,
There she lay late that night, a pool of running red,
She had no choice,
She saw the light,
it's too late now,
She's dead.