I follow a lonely procession to my car, shoulders stiff as I can manage
Tunnel vision focused on the safety of my vehicle
Passing the people who still breathe easy, passing a few in silent accordance with my anguish
Almost to my shelter when I'm stopped mid tromp before my haven
Someone yelled something, cutting a new scar into my now unfeeling flesh.
I tread quicker, flustered and incredulous, as I can feel any sort of thing, wondering,
"Have they no respect for the dead?"

I wrote this for all the girls who have recently committed suicide due to excessive bullying. They don't realize they're trying to **** someone who's already dead.