Sanity
There's always that one kid in
class.
Laughing and waving his arms,
"You took my pencil I'm going
to kill myself"
His mocking echo's around the
room.
Little does he know the quiet
kid in the back,
Is thinking the same thing.
The kid is whispering all the
evil things,
That he hates about himself.
Every time his whispers hit his
skin,
They cut deeper than the razor
in his pocket.
All he wants is for someone to
look at him and say,
"Every things going to be okay"
Even when he knows it not.
He wants some one to notice.
How he never smiles or talks,
Or maybe ask "Why don't you
have any friends?"
"Want to be mine?"
But all he has is heads turned
away and that kid in class who
lost his pencil.
That kid may have lost his
pencil,
But slowly the kid in the back.
Is losing his sanity.
Bit by bit, word by word,
glance by glance.
It's slipping from his grasp and
it's not as easy to get back,
As a pencil.
Head down, eyes closed.
When the pain rips through his
veins and bubbles out through
kisses from a razor,
He will have his sanity.
Copyright © Olivia Struthers | Year Posted 2014
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