The Diary

The Diary

Unspoken words put down into thoughts,
Reflecting her moods, tears, and onslaughts.
It listens intently though she talks to her death,
An audience, muted, taking up her last breath,

A tear rolling sideways down pages of brawl,
The blood from a cut in a momental fall,
One pillow soaked through for her lover is gone,
Two eyes watered down when her friendship is done.

Three words on a page, I hate you, she cries,
Four people to hurt her when their kindness dies.
Five days in a school week of hell in her life,
Six slits on her wrist, which have caused her such strife.

Seven family members who couldn’t care less,
Eight thoughts in her mind, they have made her this stress,
Nine tears on a night, an ordeal is through,
Ten people arrive at her funeral do.

Found hanging at nightfall, sleeping away,
Her diary was found, and until this day,
No soul will be heard to utter her name,
Abuse and bullying isn’t a game.