The Mute Girl

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I am a mute girl at the theater, fit only to prune the branches.

Every day, I watch the actors put on heavy makeup, then take the stage to sing, speak, and perform.

The young man I like wears a costume, his long sleeves fluttering. He is like a brilliant, tragic cherry blossom in spring.

Whenever I gaze at him in a daze, he only gives me a faint smile and calls out, "Little Mute."

Author's note: This is an angst story. Don't ask why the author is so melodramatic. I just love melodrama.

Theme: Growing up means cutting away part of yourself. The mute girl is physically incomplete, preserving the purity of her heart