I tune into WMUR, and they are calling it "Breaking news" as if it were some act of random violence.
All the teachers are weeping as they stand huddled together outside the old brick school building, clutching their chests as if to keep their souls from escaping.
They stare into the vast, empty, and indifferent eyes of the camera, each of them wondering how such a wonderful kid could do something so horrible.
But the only thought in my head, as I sit in the darkness of my room, eyes glued to the screen, is...
How could she not?
I didn't know her very well.
I waved to her once,
Held the door for her once,
She….loaned me a pencil once.
I saw her every day but never asked how she was doing.
I never asked....because I already knew.
One day I heard the school counselor ask her if she was okay and I heard the razor blades in her voice and saw the bullets in her teeth as she smiled and told him that she was..... "Fine"
I was there the day she got chocolate milk dumped down her shirt in the cafeteria.
I was just 2 seats over as spitballs were hitting the back of her neck during midterms.
I heard the fake coughing and the names they muttered as they passed her in the hallway.
I saw the look of hopelessness and despair in her eyes every time she looked up from her phone.
I heard the sobs as I walked past the bathroom.
I watched day by day as her sleeves got longer and the bags under her eyes got darker.
I watched day by day as all these little things added up to something that somebody should have noticed sooner.
I saw the list of names as I leaned over to give the pencil back.
Her name.....was the last on the list.
Mine was right above it.
I find myself wondering…
Should I have told someone?
Should I have done something?
Would it have made a difference?
Would it have made it worse?
Did I even have the right to get involved?
Was I on that list because I didn’t?
Do I deserve the same fate as the others?
Should I have gone to school today?
In the months to come, they will begin to rationalize the actions of this broken girl.
They'll blame the music on her iPod or the movies and games on her shelves.
They'll say her parents didn't raise her right.
They'll talk about gun reform.
Like AR-15 is the name of some parasite committing crimes against humanity.
What they won’t do is watch the school cameras for the footage of the weeks and months leading up to this tragedy.
They won't look at the messages on her phone or the notes that the "victims" left in her locker.
Nobody will ever consider her the hero of the story,
They certainly won’t look at the bodies in the hallway like they’re the corpses of slain monsters.
And pretty soon...
None of them will remember the deadly smile of the girl who loaned me a pencil.
But I…
Will never forget it.
-
Author:
Dylan Lawler (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 26th, 2020 18:07
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 43
Offline)
Comments4
Angela here - WElcome FRIEND to MPS - It is a proactive SITE & Operstes by reading (and if you wish commenting) on each others POEMS - please check our site which I share with my Husband Brian. Thnaks for your first Poem very poignant but also too familiar tale in Countries where GUNS are readily available. As a teen living in London - I was different & darker - because my Dad was Spanish. So I got my share of abuse. Fortunately I had a strong FAITH (Catholic) and a very supportive Family so I was able to ride the storm. Some kids did carry knives but I was able to defend myself against verbal & physical assaults unlike the girl in your poem. She was kind enough to lend you her pencil - BUT - unfortunately not strong enough to stand up to abuse - without support - and in the end (like so many in similar situations) she CRACKED ! Thanks for caring & sharing !
Blessings & Peace to You & Yours
Love ANGELA & BRIAN ! !
Wow! way more feedback than I expected my first day posting. Thank you so much! Means the world! It really does!
Makes terrible, but perfect sense. Situation clearly defined.
Saw and felt the whole damned thing.
You take very good care of yourself
Dave
Thank you, it means a lot to get feedback.
You too. 🙂
Very powerful words Dylan, it is such a shame that somebody could not see what was happening to her, you did but did not have the experience to know how to deal with it. That experience is inherent in you now and will never be forgotten.
Welcome to MPS.
A harrowing depiction of horrific tragedy, if it's an imagined tale or creative retelling, then I commend your empathy,
if it's an account of your actual experiences then I can only try and empathise with the pain and traumatisation you are dealing with,
either way it's a haunting read, thanks for sharing
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