What Advice, Tree, Sitting, and Anger

February 25, 2008
By
what advice have you to give
to the sorry sobbing kid
who has given up and is colored red
knowing she should have lied instead
for if she had lied there would be
no walks in the hallway to homeroom to see
sitting next now to her english teacher
her parents faces showing undescribable features
and if she had lied there would have been
no car ride to a therapist then
no hour-long of letting it out
and wondering 'what is this about'
if she had lied she could have went
back to school without being sent
to talk to the teachers and tell all her friends
'im going to change, how could this be the end?'
and if she had lied she could have cried
without feeling guilty or having to try
to decipher her feelings like a puzzle of sorts
and hiding her secret in a closet's cohorts
but if she had lied she'd never have gone
and lived another whole twelve months long
to learn so many other neat tricks
like how to keep her crimson lips zipped


tree tree tree tree tree
they are a blur now you cannot differentiate between them
when you run. it was a plesent time
thinking to yourself
many ideas that you might one day share
when you are drinking tea with the queen
or at a meeting with the president
but you do not think about that this time
as your bag bangs against your leg
and your tears destract your vision
you only think
of how far you have left to run
before you are away

sitting
waiting
watching
shivering
the taste of salty tears raining from your cheeks to your mouth
you hear the roar of an engine and strain your head to see
but it hurts. you exhaust back into the snow and relax; wait.
the engine is louder and stops next to you...voices say things
you do not understand. some foriegn language? you feel a
warmth suddenly. then there is a vehicle driving away. wait!
wait! take me to the hopspital! you scream but no sound comes
out. drifting, drifting, snowflakes. drifting, drifting you into a sleep.
roughly awaken by the sound once more of the engine screaming
in the cold. the voices again..different. you can understand. then a
pause and a mans voice asks how you managed to pull a blanket
over your body. you try to say that the others did it, but succeed only
in falling back into the sleep. when you awake inside white white white
walls there is the nurse. she asks if it hurt when you moved to get a
blanket from the car after you had been thrown out. you tell her that the
man did it. she tells the doctor. the doctor tells the ambulance driver. the
ambulance driver tells you there were no other tracks around you. angels!
you exclaim excitedly. no. he interjects. you are just delusional from your
crash. he frowns and says before leaving there are no such thing as angels.

ANGER does not subside, it just hides and rocks and waits. goodbye, goodbye. not even two
feet away, and you do not see me crying and writing my sad goodbye note. will you be able
to read it by the time it is soaked by my tears. your back is bent from all those long
nights, hunched over a piece of paper. writing out what you meant by all thoes things you
never said. never had the chance to say. or even ask the time of day. those kids halfway
'cross the world are bathing in blood each day. and you do not even have the courage to stay
can you not see in the mirror what i saw when i looked at you: my motivation. you are the
reason i am alive YOU ARE THE REASON I AM ALIVE! what am i to do when you leave. no NO stop!
it is not to make you feel quilty, it is just to make you see. what am i without you? what
are the sands without a sea? what is my motivation now? now that you have broken the mirror,
and used the shattered pieces to just plain taunt me. pick yourself up off the floor, tell
me where is the line you have drawn, for i seem to not be able to see it. i seem to not have
the courage to call. but at least, i pick myself up when i fall. instead of just
running away from the battle field. so goodbye, goodbye, not even two feet away, explaining
to you how anger does not subside, it just hides and rocks and waits.





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