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Teacher mumbles a statistic
Some gasp, some yawn
Either way, no matter who hears
Statistics die
Numbers fade
Letters dissolve into time
Nothing lasts in my world

He writes it on the board
A kid flies a lined-paper jet
A yearbook passes around
Crosses over faces,
Some bright with excitement
But what remains?
A black mark
Symbolizing their status

Beneath a black cross
A young boy’s face
Cheeks spotted with acne
Eyes guarded by plastic frames…
Before everything went wrong

A dark night, nobody sober enough
The boy steps into the equation
A reluctant offer, a hesitant smile
Nothing as it should be

Druken laughter, poor judgement
A punch in boy’s stomach
A cry of pain in their intoxicated ears
A pool of blood on his shirt
Glass shattering in someone’s hands
The boy’s cheeks burning
From tears from his eyes
And tears from their hands

Exit crowd, spotlight on boy
A sorry lump of self-pitying flesh
And blood and tears and pain
The time comes for a last decision
To stay or move on?
He chooses the easiest
And throws himself away

What remains of young boy?
A sorry statistic.
Did you know that suicide is one of the leading causes
Of teenage deaths?
I bet you didn’t
And later, much later
The statistic will
Die





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