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I’m so bored now,
You don’t even know,
I’m in the calc-room,
From 2 to 3:30.

We’re all bored,
Just look, we’re sleeping,
In the classroom,
While she keeps teaching
ZZZzzzzzzzz
He
He’s so depressed he can barely
Hide it inside himself anymore
The look on his face pains
My heart more than the knowledge
That even I can’t help him
When he gets this way…

The crowed rooms of heartless
Fools add to the battle he wages
Inside the hidden parts of his
Mind where I can’t see him bleeding
Crying alone as I watch his face turn
Cold while his eyes plead for my help...

I’m no doctor, I can’t prescribe him
Pills to drown out his heartache
I’m not a dealer, I’ve got no drugs
To give him an escape from this
I’m not a magician, I lack the magic
Needed to cure him of himself…

I can’t make him like himself
Any more than I can make the
Moon turn into a shooting star
To wish upon. He lets me in
But only so far as the front
Yard to his prison of a mind…

Why won’t he let me see
The wounds he’s created in
His own self-esteem? I’d sew
Them up with delicate thread
And gentle loving hands if only
He’d let me get close enough…
Sometimes, when it's raining,
I find myself watching raindrops
Collecting on a window,
Trying to merge together
And continue onwards,
Down, down, down,
Until the rain picks up,
And the droplets fall
In steady streams,
Like tears from above,
Pooling on the lip
Of the window before
Pushing themselves over,
Down to the puddles below them.
And then I wonder if anyone else
Ever thinks about the life
Of a single raindrop, or knows
Just how beautiful the rain is,
Or realizes the reasons I can
Never stay upset when it rains,
Because sometimes I feel like I'm
The only one who really notices
The raindrops collecting themselves
On windows...
he said it
he uttered the words not aloud
but still they were heard
and the meaning was felt as
the cutting edge dug in
and the sound of steel rang
in my ears
while whispers of his agony
drowned inside my mind
How long would it take for somebody
To notice if I drove off the road one night
And just flung myself, car and all,
Into the frosty cold of a snowy ditch?
Who would look for my body if
I never showed up at home?
Who would be the one to call police?
Who would care enough to look for the wreckage?
Who would miss me?
Who would cry?
Would anyone care enough
To even shed a tear
When they pull my corpse
From the ****** wreck?
It seems doubtful to me.
Hardly anyone cares about me
On any given day, what's
The difference if I'm dead in a ditch
Or crying alone in my car after driving
Somebody home? What's the point to
Continuing on when the only one that matters
To me can't even look me in the eyes when
I ***** up and cry...
The only one that never leaves me doesn't
Have much choice, they aren't born yet.
My heart's chords no
longer sound melodious.
I've doodled and drawn till my skin's
Smudged grey from graphite,
I've erased and erased till shavings
Covered my floor like a rug,
I've drawn and re-drawn till I think
maybe... maybe it's good enough,
Then I change it some more,
Shade a part again,
Stain my skin some more,
Re-trace lines again...
And I think this time it's just about right,
Not quite, but it's alright,
So I pick up my pencil and
Sign it

— The End —