| » Poem: Dying to feel pt.1 |
Dying to feel pt.1
written by DeaD_DyinG_PaiN01:51 AM 3/4/05| A few years back a girl was raped and beat so badly she only lived for about 12 hours before she choked on her own blood, her parents found her naked 3 weeks later in a empty house on the corner of my street. For years people bought the house later found out its past and sold it. For months this house lay empty, grass growing so long you can barely see the windows at this point. The white paint faded and mixed together with the rust dripping from the door knob and windows. Most people say it looked like the house was weeping or somewhat more like bleeding. Dozens of old news papers lay all over the yard. The most beautiful plants, died and on the edge of decomposing. Kids on my block would play games and see how long someone can stay in the house until they freak out. And once there is an empty house the rumors begin to spread about how haunted it is. But I treated the house like a bee if I don’t bother it, then it wouldn’t bother me. The lies these kids say turn my stomach to rot. I think its rude, how can these people ridicule what happened in that house. Someone died isn’t that enough terror for one day. I never knew the girl I just recently moved here. I sit in class and wonder if I’m the only one that feels this different about our oh so famous haunted house. My father always tells my mother that all that house needs is to be mowed and painted and maybe even a few new plants and it will be as good as new. But you can paint and forget what truly happened in that house but under the paint its still just the same old house. You cant hide your past and start over take it from someone that knows… I feel connected to the house, we both just want to forget, we both are exiled for the chooses we made. that’s why I guess I’m not scared of this so called “haunted house”. I’m a fourteen year old druggie trying to start over in a new city. But gladly I am no longer the “new kid”. Three months of “hey new girl..” A new boy in my first hour class, there are rumors about the new kid and that he lives in that house. But you really shouldn’t believe them, rumors are like A.I.D.S or cancer killing every last blood cell till the body gives in and you know what happens then that’s right you parents get stuck with you funeral bill. Just the thought of someone living in that house makes my skin crawl with maggots it takes me hours to finally shack the image out of my head. I finally got up the courage to ask a prep who are always in the middle of everything so there for know everything, what his name was and of coarse she knew but anyways his name is Steven Morgan and he is 15 years old and has the most beautiful transparent blue eyes I have ever seen. Jet black hair that falls into his eyes, the bell rings and its lunch time. I hate people so I always sit alone and to my surprise Steven sat next to me and started talking to me. He told me that he saw me walking to school and wondered if I lived on the same street. But I wasn’t really listening I was to busy staring at a deep ugly scar across his left wrist, I grabbed and hide my own wrist and fought with myself to find the words to ask what it was from but I knew deep inside what it really was from. “Yo, Steven what’s that ugly scar from?” he hesitated and looked like he was swatting the silence was finally broken when he laughs and says, “Nothing something stupid when I was little..” I then rolled up my jacket sleeve and smiled “Yeah we all do stupid things when we are little, see you around Steven.” I sat up slowly fixed my jacket sleeve and picked up my tray and dumped it in the garbage grabbed my stuff and went to class.. The last hour of school seemed to drag on for hours. I look up at the clock frantically hoping to see 2:45 P.M. 5 more minutes, 3,2,1.… yes!!!! Schools out. I walk home with my head phones up so loud I couldn’t even hear myself think, that’s the only way I can walk home without hearing “them” yell freak |
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Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
its the book im writing
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| » Comments / Feedback | by Marigold (3-4-2005 - 02:02 AM)
| Needs more details and transition sentences, awesome story though. |
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