Poems

The Girl- Part Two

She went to the hospital then, and was attached to an I.V. She didn't know what would happen she'd just have to wait and see...

The girl woke up hours later, to the sight of her mother and 'father'. Funny, that the man who partially killed her, was sitting there 'worried' for his daughter. She was questioned and quizzed. They were searching to find reasons for what she did. She told about the bullying, how it tore her apart. But she said nothing of her 'father' and how he ripped up her heart.

Little did did she know, the man she considered her real father was home, lockng up the knives and medications. Hiding them away in a secret location. She was taken out of school for about a week. They went to talk to the principal about the bullying, but the girl could barely speak. She told them about the words that others had constantly said. And she told about the notes, that would be forever stuck inside her head. She told about a few beatings, that had happened after school. That she never previously talked about, because she felt like such a fool. Her mother sat there crying, her principal didn't utter a word. She couldn't bring herself to speak, for it was the worst thing she'd ever heard. The girl had been asked which students had done this. But the girl only whispered, "Ask Jane Harnish."*

The girl got up and left then, for she had had enough. It would be an understatement, to say her life was 'tough'. She and her mother went home, and the girl retreated to her room. She just hoped that her parents would calm down soon.

Fast forward, she's back at school. She guessed the bullies were talked to, for they were no longer cruel. And yet she still worried, about what they might do. Of course, she didn't tell anyone, about this fear of hers. For it was something she couldn't explain. Or, more so, didn't want to put in words.

She listened to music, to try and numb her pain. And for a while she felt better, for they sang what she couldn't explain. But after a while the pain came back, and she found something else. The music no longer helped, and so she started cutting herself. She didn't use a razor, nor a knife, nor a blade. She used a pair of scissors, so that in the pain, she could wade.

A/N:

*Names were altered.

I have to write this poem in parts because reliving it through writing it can become a bit overwhelming. I hope that you will have patience with me as I tell this story.

~Stay Strong and Read On