(read forward, then backward, line by line)

I ran.
Not knowing what else to do
There was so much blood on my hands
It was mine
The kitchen knife
Caught in my chest
Guilt
Consumed by
Fear
I was heightened by
Adrenaline
But running on
Wasn’t enough
While trying to stay calm,
Losing control
It was me that would end up
Dead. Because
He was
In front of me
The whole time
It was too late
Trapped
I found myself
Locked in chains
My fate was
Death.

To all the kids from 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, and all the others who were told they're to young to be a poet.

To all the theatre kids who can't sing but do it anyway

To all the people who post vines, memes and jokes on here.

To all the people who post poems while they're in class, or in the middle of the night.

To all the people who are open and proud about their sexuality and gender.

To all the closeted people who still post poetry about it.

To all the people who quote songs, movies and musicals.

To all the people who post the conversations they have with their friends.

To all the people who were told they're bad at writing, bur do it anyway because they like to.

To all the people who are unsure about their writing.

To all the people who support all these kind strangers online.

To all the people who support all poetry, no matter what gender/age/sexuality the person has that wrote it.

To all the artists that wanted to try something new.

To all the people who have known this site for years.

To all the people who are new here.

To every poet I haven't called out,

You make this community even better. I love you.