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What I Pray
Walking down the hallway.
People look at me.
Clinging to my books.
Starring straight ahead;
focusing on the door.
Dodging dirty looks.
Standing at my locker.
I make no eye contact.
She whispers" Your such a freak"
Run to the door;
Make my way to the bus.
They throw stuff at me.
Keep forward,
finally get home.
I silently go to my room.
Fall to my bed;
break completely down.
So lost and hurt and gloom.
My parents go out,
Alone with the T.V on.
They say I'll be all right.
Make my way to kitchen.
Tears swell in my eyes.
The Chef Knife shines bright.
Afraid and alone;
with a sinking heart.
Hold it, shaking in my fist.
Slowly move it to my arm.
Pale white it runs;
from my forearm to wrist.
Blood on the white tile.
My legs are cold.
All my limbs heavy.
The door opens.
My parents are home.
My mother holds me.
Closing my eyes,
breathing slowly.
I sleep...
and if I die before I wake.
I pray to God.
My soul to take.
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