A Little Poetry

It's Gone

It's there.
You know it's there.
They know it's there.
We all know about it.

We all know about the picture that she posted last night half drunk barley wearing any clothing.

They talk about it.
They spread rumours.
You know it's not her fault, they spiked it.
You do nothing, watch as the scene plays out.

No one notices the thing following her, the dark little shadow. It seems to grow every time you see her.

She was a good girl
But now plastered with labels:
Skank
Whore
Slut
You know it's not true
She was your friend

No one noticed when she started wearing long sleeves, trying to hide the skin that went viral. Trying to hide from the thing that towered over her.

No one reached out to her, she was alone. The thing that followed her soon consumed her. She had bags under her eyes, no makeup on. she was still beautiful, but no one said so.

It's there.
You know it's there.
They know it's there.
We all know it's there.

Her body, limp, cold, lifeless. hanging from the ceiling fan, slowly turning like in some cop show.

They all feel sorry.
Pasting labels like always:
Beautiful
Funny
Passionate
You know it's a lie
But you lay one on her too.
Friend.

You called her friend when you rejected her like everyone else.

It's open casket, every one is there. crying sobbing, acting. You feel terrible for letting her go, she deserves better.

It always wins, in the end. Then chooses it's next victim. It's so easy to fall into the trap, too hard to crawl out. So we all give up trying, we had a good run.

It's there.
You know it's there.
They know it's there.
We all know it's there.
Do something about it.