She comes into class with nothing but a frown,
I have noticed since Monday she has been down.
I see in her eyes that she is real hurt,
He starts off her day by saying she is dirt.
I look into her eyes as they start to swell,
I want to give her a hug but there goes the bell.
I did not know it was her last day,
I have always wished she could stay.
She walks down the hall minding her own business,
they kick and punch her,
and I am the only witness.
She whispers in my ear saying not to tell,
as she quickly murmurs it would just be hell.
She reassuringly says this will soon be over,
just like her poor old dog Grover.
As she gets to her house,
she is as quiet as a mouse.
She grabs as many pill bottles,
finds the sharpest knife,
then quickly but quietly,
enters the bathroom to end her own life.
I remember I wrote this poem as I had a knife in my hand sitting in a small pool of my own blood. Suicide is not the answer, it gets better trust me!