Locker Lined Halls, Chrissy H.

A girl’s pain explodes

in bits of shallow breath.

Her body trembles in silent sobs.

She attempts to tune out

the faint murmurs that breathe,

“You’re not smart enough,

you’re not pretty enough”.

 

But her torrent

overflows the dam. Today

she says goodbye.

 

And today all of us just sit back,

watch her writhe under tangled feelings,

watch her submit to the whimpering whispers,

wave as she says goodbye.

 

We need to wake up,

beat down the rumor,

closet the needless gossip,

hush the undercover conspiracies.

“Today,” we cry.