The Murder of Chalk

June 5, 2010
By Anonymous

I sit and wait
Afraid of what comes.
My future is uncertain
As the days stretch
Beyond the horizon of time.

My murderer is here.
I slowly rise up.
I silently scream for mercy
As my face is ground
Into an infinite wall of brown.

My remains are dust,
Scattered on the floor.
They blow away without a sound.
My soul is vanquished.
I am no more.

The author's comments:
In my 9th grade English class this year, we had to write a poem of any form that expressed emotion. I didn't want to do anything too serious, so I looked up and saw a piece of chalk on the floor surrounded by its own dust. That was my inspiration.

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