He walked me home,
holding my hand.
I didn't want to let go,
his hands were
so warm.
I didn't want to let go,
thinking i'll never
hold those hands
again.
We said our good-byes.
He left,
not knowing each others' names.
I slept,
but this time,
without crying.
It was him.
He's may be
my only hope,
my only cure,
my only friend.
I woke up,
grabbed my lunch,
and left.
I came to school,
looking for him.
Why?
Was yesterday
a joke?
Or was it
real?
He ran to me,
calling,
yelling my name.
He held my hand,
rolled up my sleeves,
looking for fresh
or new cuts.
He sighed in relief.
"Why?"
I asked.
"Huh?"
He let go of my hand.
"Why help me?
Why do you care?
Why now?"
So many questions
running through my head.
"First of all,
becuase you're
important to me.
Second,
because you need
a friend.
Last,
I thought
you'd get better
soon, but
looks like you haven't."
He answered all those questions.
"Why am I,
important?"
I was confused.
"You'll find out."
He smiled,
it warmed my heart.
YOU ARE READING
Learning To Love Myself
Historia CortaA girl named Sally was born with a terrible family. She was abused, scared, and hated. She didn't know why she deserved this. She's thirteen years old now. Her parents died when she was 10. So why is she still sad, when her parents are dead? A boy t...
