The girl

The Girl

There was a girl,

she was in her middle teen years.

She was so shy,

it was hard for her to find a career.

Constantly at school she was bullied

,pushed, and thrown.

They would make hateful comments on her clothing

, and call her a drone.

She never reported the incidents,

for fear of them being informed.

She would put on a fake smile at home,

her thoughts began to tell her

That in this world she is all alone

This girl found a way to release her sadness,

she took a blade and slid it across her skin.

Every time that she did,

it was just another battle,

That she wasn’t going to win.

Not wanting to turn to anyone,

For fear of being judged.

She went two years like this,

Becoming a big red smudge.

One day she went home,

And decided that she was done.

Her thoughts overtook her,

And told her to do something fun.

Grabbing a rope,blade and chair,

She dashed up to her room.

Tears forming in her eyes,

Thinking “it will all be over soon”.

This girl sliced up and down her wrists,

She took a piece of paper,

And jotted down what she thought of this.

Taking the chair, and rope,

To the middle of her room.

Beginning to think,

“What will they assume?”

Taking the rope,

And making one big loop.

She glanced up at the ceiling,

And saw a perfect place on the roof.

Standing on the chair,

She reached to tie the rope on the hook.

Tears streaming down her face,

Like a big ocean in a small brook.

Object around her neck,

She sighed and kicked the chair out from beneath.

There was no more air in herself, no longer could she reach.

Minutes on and on,

slowly fading away.

There was an end to her pulse,

She was not going to be okay.

Hours later,

Her parents went up to her room.

Opening the door,

Their hearts in a tangled loom.

Screaming and crying,

A lovely daughter lost.

Still hanging from the ceiling,

Her eyes blurred,

Like a layer of melting frost.

She never said anything,

She could have asked for help.

She never said anything,

She could have asked for help.

She was too good at hiding,

She never even yelped.

About a week later,

Of this sad girls death.

Her funeral was held,

Taking away her parents breath.

What bullying did to her world,

Breaking down her precious soul.

Those last words she jotted down?

“Was this your final goal?”

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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