Grief Written

There once was a little girl with indecisive eyes, Whose Mother put her soft blonde hair into pigtails and ribbons, Which the little girl would pull out moments later, Leaving her hair wild like her spirit. There once was a little girl with rosy cheeks, Whose Mother would try to gently wipe food from, But the little girl would push her hands away screaming in protest, Leaving the girl messy and happy. There once was a little girl with a curious mind, Whose Mother would always try to satisfy. Her pointing fingers, or tantruming fists, never received a good enough answer to her ever constant question of "why?" There once was a girl who wasn't so little anymore. At age fifteen the girl decided her eyes were the ordinary color brown,  And only let her Mother put her hair in ponytails with a single ribbon, Which the girl would leave in all day, Even though they gave her a headache, Because that's how the girls at school wore their hair. The girl painted her cheek...

She sat on the cold counter, watching her feet swing above the wood floor. The phone was pressed against her ear lightly, "I think the unknown will always drive me crazy, you know? It's like we have this endless amount of strings tying us to everyone that hold all these different possibilities. And I wish that I could've followed his and I's string to the end. I mean where did it lead? I can only imagine it. It's this whole tangled mess of what could've been." "Well why didn't you find out where it lead?" "The string got cut or it snapped. I dont know. That's the problem with the strings, sometimes they just break. Or sometimes people wake up and decide that they want to cut it."  "Well what now?" "I dont know," she whispered tiredly with the microwave flashing the numbers 2:30 am at her. "I just have this useless string  connecting me to a ghost and I wonder what they're doing with their half. Did t...