Gossip

G-O-S-S-I-P
That much dreaded word
buzzed around her head
like an annoying fly
that won’t go away.

She risked a glance back
and saw people clustering around,
whispering behind their hands
nasty nothings
complete with a subtle dash of sarcasm.

Everywhere she went,
an abrupt conversation stopper she becomes.
For even they know
that it is impolite,
even rude,
to talk about someone
when that particular person
is present herself.

This endless verbal abuse
has tortured her frail mind, fragile body.
Months, weeks, days of suffering
finally made her snap.

Enough was enough!
No more, she pleaded
as a last resort
with her big sorrowful eyes
but all she got in return
were sneers, smirks and jeers.

A broken girl,
she climbed up the forbidden stairs
to a forbidden end.
No one ran after her.
No one stop her.
For they did not know enough
to even care.

She stood on the uppermost floor.
The wind teased her tangled hair
Tears smeared her once perfect makeup.
Was this it? she asked herself.

Ugly thoughts stiffened her resolve.
She stood upright on the banister
like a proud haughty queen
with her beautiful tresses blowing in the wind,
oblivious to the tiny coloured dots
pointing up at her.

In a flash, she jumped.
Soared down like an ill-used angel,
her white dress streaming against her
desperate to escape from
the ugly realities
of an ugly world.
And finally all was ended for her
with a piercing thump.

:: The Process ::

Oh, how Time has flown!
and we mope and moan
of the days that have gone,
where we made friendship bonds.

Behold, the battle zone
while the examiner drones,
Thinking Caps are donned,
to write whatever our heads own.

Feverish sweat tickles the brow,
for those not as wise as owls.
Some sail through with glee,
I do hope one of them is me!
(Wishful thinking...)

When all is quiet,
our brains so tired,
pencils and pens are laid to rest,
So we can enjoy life with zest!

Did He Know?

Sorry, stranger for stepping
on your shoe,
for I know not what I do.
Dried of emotion, shriveled, yes I am.
Tired, exhausted and shattered.

I faltered at the thought
of him lying lifeless
in the white bed,
frozen like a beautiful wax figurine,
surrounded by a crying family.

Did he know
that this is no way
to end his problems?
For he only caused immense pain
to those he loved.

Tell me, stranger,
Was it my fault
I didn’t notice
this was the end he chose?
That I should have known better.
That I should have
been a better friend.

Yes, I know.
Life is priceless.
Life is sacred.
Life is fragile.
A threadbare difference
separates life from death.
But he did not know.

Because of that,
he chose to end life
with the same thread,
hanging from a beam,
staring dully at the glass,
from misty it became clear.
The last breath left him,
Leaving us to an eternity
of endless sorrows
and regrets.