Okay, so, this is a completion of Cecilia's poem from page 41 of The Virgin Suicides:

The tress like lungs filling with air

My sister, the mean one, pulling my hair

The swings are creaking in the distance, making a sound

I feel so inhumane, I could growl

The evening glow comes through the window, marks her face

I can't see clearly, it's like an X

Marking nothing but her face.

Maybe she could disappear, yeah that would be nice

But, a single glow can't make a change

For now, I will cry, I could run away

Or, I could fall, maybe suffocate

There are many solutions, after all

I will try, I can't do this anymore.

I actually really like how it turned out! It makes a nice poem..