It was annouced on a Friday,

In the old speaker system,

That a boy was gone,

Because he didn’t think anyone would miss him.

 

I only wish he could have heard,

How silent the dirty halls were,

With only softly muffled sobs,

Coming from her.

 

It’s so sad that he didn’t think,

His life wasn’t worth living,

And I wish he had not done something,

So lasting and unforgiving.

 

She has so many regrets now,

About not telling him,

That the darkness inside his mind,

Could be conquered if he learned how to swim.

 

She would have taught him how,

If only she had courage enough,

To walk up and tell him,

She saw through his laughing lies and bluff.

 

She had once spun the same tales,

Of how she “ate before she came,”

And all the smiles she plastered on her face,

To ignore the adjectives beside her name.

 

She has so many letters inside of her locker,

Written in blue and black ink,

All begging him to forget about,

What people might think.

 

She had told herself one more week,

And she would have given them to him,

But what a difference a week makes,

On those who don’t know how to swim.