The first time I went to the guidance office
(without being asked)
I was crying

You see, my friend had killed himself the night before
And I was having a hard time coping
He was 2 weeks away from graduating high school

We weren't going to school together at the time
But we lived in the same neighborhood
He was close to many of my very close friends

His mother was an addict
His father was abusive
He was forced to move in with him despite the fact

Some kids had decorated a tunnel in his name
There were pictures and poems
I left flowers and ribbons

The police officers told us that the pictures didn't look like him
When he was asked how he knew Cal
He said, "I met him on Sunday"

His only reference of a beautiful soul was
Him hanging above a bike path
By a rope he kept hidden from his family

Yet he claimed to know him
When he probably didn't know his name
Or what he did for us

They covered the art with paint
Claiming it was "vandalism"
This was the day after the funeral

I recanted this to Ms. Jackson
She told me he would want me to focus on my school work
She sent me back to class

They ask us why we never open up to them
How can we open up when the system is broken?
This isn't the story of a young boy's suicide

We are supposed to build trust with those who are around us for seven hours a day
But how can we
When they turn us away as we're crying?