Little Warrior

She's never missed a day of school;
The others laugh and wonder.
How does she do it? She must have
The perfect life—no sickness, no family emergencies.

When she has a cold, she carries around
A paper tissue, sodden with snot and tears—
Sickness and sadness
Melting down her serious face.

Every morning she ducks her head
So her face can't see the grown-up's frown.
I'm going to school, Mom, and the word
Sticks in her throat; She's not a mom.

She clutches her books to her chest.
Their knowledge is a shield from the world.
The pen is indeed mightier than a sword
When grasped by this bony fist.