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myOtaku.com: bebopinutrigun188


Thursday, September 16, 2004

   this is such a good poem
one of my friend's friends wrote this. its really good! read it!

by Alicia Kelly

Faces, faces in the crowd,
Like a pile of scattering bugs;
Somethings are bothering you;
Like a little kid at it's tugs.

You stand there and admire,
The lovely crowd of kids;
But there is some uncertainty;
Like the last one at its bids.

You see that kid in the corner,
No one bothers to meet;
He keeps his face in a book,
Like a mask used by a sheet.

You notice he seems out of place,
The loneliness in his eyes;
And yet you go and turn around,
And let the days pass by.

The next day there he is,
Standing in his place;
No one ever looks that way,
With puzzlement on his face.

You never see him in the gym,
Doing those big strides on the track;
You never see him at lunch,
Riding here, there or back.

You've never seen such sadness,
And depression in his eyes;
And yet you turn and walk away,
Letting the weeks drift by.

You've seen him sitting at his desk,
Fiddling with his pen;
You wish that you could hear his voice,
Nope not once, won't happen.

He never mutters a single word,
You might understand him if you try;
Everyone thinks he's fine as is;
But only you can hear his cry.

Everyone says he's a loser,
A mentally disturbed freak;
An unexisting alien,
A lamo twisted geek.

But all those are lies,
And they know it too;
And yet somehow they wind up,
In the same boat as you.

You walk infront of the boy,
Both staring in eaches eyes;
But yet you go and slug away;
Letting the months zip by.

On and on it goes,
And still you can't decide;
You want to do something more,
Than just looking in his eyes.

The rumors about him get worse,
Now no one looks him in the eye;
And yet here you do nothing,
Letting the years pass by.

Now it's the last year of highschool,
You get tired of waiting too;
And you finally came to realize,
No one will talk to him unless you do.

You walk across the hall,
Picking up your feet;
But when you reach his place;
You find no one there to meet.

Finally you find out,
What had happened to this boy;
That he would not sleep,
Nor eat or leap with joy.

They say that he,
Is in a better place now;
Yes, six feet under;
You wonder, That's better how?

You go to the funeral,
To get one last glipse of he;
The boy you should have met
The boy that still should be.

You wonder over to the casket,
Holding your breath before you see;
The boy that used to look around;
The boy that used to be.

And you peer down at the boy,
Looking straight in his eyes;
Wondering why he left this earth,
Wondering why he died.

You ask his teacher,
And sadly he starts;
This boy had grabbed a kitchen knife;
And stuck it through his heart.

Speechless and upset,
Now you wonder why;
You only stood and looked at him;
Letting the time pass by.

Wasnt that sad? I just hope this isnt a true story. I'm gonna cry! Well, I'll try to suck it up! C ya!



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