She has iron in her backbone,

Built up from,

The plastic brace she wears.

You can’t judge,

What you can’t see,

She  tells herself,

And besides,

Who would ever,

Want to look closely at me?

Yet there is something,

In her bobbed brown hair,

And in her awkward,

Shy smile,

And in the grace,

She carries herself with,

That makes you want to,

Know her.

She has a fragile toughness,

Like there is steel,

Hidden in her bones,

And though her back,

May be crooked,

And have a few bumps,

You can’t take your backbone,

And try to mimic hers,

Because hers has metal,

Does yours?