They Never Saw Her Coming

They didn’t notice her
in the classroom.

Quiet girl.
Second row.
Eyes down.

She wasn’t loud.
Didn’t raise her hand
every time.
Didn’t dress
to be seen.
Didn’t laugh
like she owned the room.

So they assumed
she was average.
Soft.
Small.
Forgettable.

But what they didn’t see
was the fire
she carried
inside her chest.

The books she read
alone.
The thoughts she wrote
in the back pages
of notebooks.
The battles
she fought
silently
every day
and still
showed up.

She didn’t speak much—
because she was listening.

She didn’t fight back—
because she was watching.

And when the time came—
she didn’t ask for a chance.
She took it.
All of it.

They blinked
when she stood tall.
They whispered
when her name
was called.
They clapped
like they knew her
all along.

But she knew—
they never saw her.
Not really.

Until she became
too bright
to ignore.