Brushing tears away

It was there this morning, the hair,
Now it is lifeless in this brush.
Golden strands of blonde and brown;
Dead. Gone. Forever it will be.

Lifeless and tired or so she feels.
The world is spinning faster,
But that little girl is still-- motionless.
She can only look, look into the brush.

All of her strength is in that brush.
Goldilocks stretch to each bristle.
Her fingers glide over the teeth
As lost tears make them wet.

She gazes into the hollow mirror,
Bruises are becoming more apparent.
She brushes them lightly and winces
More tears fall helplessly from her eyes.

That is what she is now helpless
And soon it will take over--the end.
Like a blanket smothering her
And choking her family too.

Her eyes stare big and glimmering,
Purple lips begin to quiver faster.
Tears come escaping more and more,
Like when her hair started in the spring.

She was the only bald girl at recess.
The only girl who had had surgeries.
She was the only girl who was sick.
But everyone on the inside was dying.