she counting all the time away
every second even hour
waiting till the time is right
her face is pinched and sour
she playing with her fingers
and tapping on her desk
just waiting to go home
so she can finally rest
people pull her hair
and trip her up on purpose
she gets called countless names
and told that she is worthless
she looks into the mirror
and just guess what she sees?
an ugly worthless peice of shit
that's what she's come to believe
the bell rings out behind her
she dashes from her seat
she runs the entire way home
the pavement pounding beneath her feet
she grabs a pack of pills
and twists off the lid
they told her she should die..
so she did
DU LIEST GERADE
is it still a joke now?
PoetryThe utter most inner thoughts and feelings of one who has but no other way to express them and therefore without a pen a paper she very much may spontaneously combust in an explosion of secrets bottled up for far far too long. : )