Arriving in class, the room falls silent,
You lay down your books, though you hear it all.
People look upon you with unhidden resentment,
You don’t accompany them down to the mall.
The teacher avoids you, at your parents request,
The dream from last night still burns in your head.
Staying in touch is becoming a quest.
Would this affect you if in fact you were dead?
The dream of the world enshrouded in black,
It seemed so real and clear.
This world would be fine for you, if only you could find a way back.
You let the textbook cover your face, enclosing the single shed tear.
The scars on you arm,
The cut from last night,
You know their doing you harm,
But how else can you fight?
You once wore a shirt, but never again,
You thought they might understand.
Your explanations fell like tears.. in the rain.
Email this story 
Print Story 
Add to reading list
