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Hypothermia
The letter
on the top
of the dresser.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
So
sorry.
Outside the warmth
of the Hearth and Home,
where the monsters
were real
and the hope that guided;
Faded.
And the roots that anchored
to the ground
your system that allowed that
hope to come
back,
and spring up with a mighty
vibrant blossom,
dug up,
by a world you hardly knew.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
So
sorry.
Did you have to leave so soon?
Didn’t even know you very well,
you know.
I wanted to.
You left too soon though.
You may disagree
but it certainly wasn’t your time to go.
What you really escaped
was a friend,
waiting unbeknownst to you.
Chitter-chatter from some kids.
They thought it was funny.
Won’t be when one of them is buried deep,
because no one paid them any mind.
“Youth don’t go killing themselves; why would they.”
“There still is so much life in them; why would they.”
“They don’t know the world’s coldness yet; why would they.”
Perhaps you didn’t notice
the look on their face,
when they saw their friend bullied,
or started seeing them vape.
They know,
We know,
more than you think,
about the world.
While not refined
children learn quick.
-Isn’t that what you are always saying?
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
So
sorry.
Farewell.
So tell me why my peers are killing themselves!
it's not because they are dumb as rocks,
it’s because they lost
their hope,
their roots,
their friends to your ‘coolness’;
to your coldness!
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This piece is about suicide.
I wrote it for my english class, but another teacher suggested submitting it to teenink.com.
I titled it Hypothermia because of the last few lines.