Murderer-
She entered the building with nothing on her mind
Walked towards her classroom, where a crowd had accumulated
Pushing past them with a fierce need
She looked inside, her face a blank canvas
He laid there on the ground
A pool of blood surrounding his body
The gun lay limply in his hand
A contorted figure in the center of the room
Her eyes laughed as she looked on
His suicide caused her to laugh inside
Her life was an emotionless ride
Killing someone to feel
Yet, as she watched the students crying
She walked into the room
Kicking the body aside to reach her chair
Listening happily to the sounds of outrage
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Comments
I absolutely love it. Last two lines absolutely drive the entire point home. I love that she doesn't pretend to care about the boy who killed himself.
Brutal honesty.
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"Writers aren't exactly people...they're a whole lot of people trying to be one person." --F. Scott Fitzgerald.
"Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia." --E.L. Doctorow.
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Smile, today could have been much worse...It could have all been just a dream...
--
"Writers aren't exactly people...they're a whole lot of people trying to be one person." --F. Scott Fitzgerald.
"Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia." --E.L. Doctorow.
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