He approaches the house,
It's quit and dark.
The shy girl lives here,
And her parents are out.
He's only here for a project,
Then he can get on with his life.
Return to his friends,
And never think of the shy girl again.
She's a no one.
A looser, a fool.
When he rings the bell,
And nobody comes.
He waits a minute,
Before trying the door.
It swings open,
With a hollow creak.
He wants to go further,
But he's afraid of what he'll see.
Still, he approaches a hall,
Where he hears the TV on.
He continues further,
Until he reaches a bed,
The worst is the smell,
The girl is dead.
There's a note on the bed,
And a razor in her hand.
There's blood on the bed,
Practically drowning the girl.
Her eyes are still open,
Forever pleading for help, then pain.
He closes his eyes,
But still he sees,
The bloody scene.
He wonders why she did it,
Taken her own life.
Then he reads the note,
She was bullied, but he never knew.
Then he remembers all the times he didn't speak,
She shied away in fear,
He was the worst of all.
Now he hates himself,
And he calls for help.
The authorities come,
And take her in a bag.
She's officially dead,
And he will follow soon.
YOU ARE READING
Dark Poetry
PoetryThis is a book full of poetry I wrote myself, so I ask that no one steals it. As you can tell by the cover and the name it is dark so don't complain that I didn't warn you. Although I still write poetry and will update it, most of the poems are olde...
