The Grim Reaper

I sit there, staring as the Grim Reaper slowly walks into the room.

Knowing that he is going to take my best friend away.

All I can do is sit, and stare.

And think.

Think about how much worse it would be if she was really about to die.



I continue to sit there, in my desk, staring.

Listening with keen ears, intently.

As soon as his hand touched her shoulder,

tears began to form.



I listen to what was read.

I hear the names of her friends.

And my friends, too.

I hear her parents names.

I hear the sound of squealing rubber,

and soon after the loud crash that killed her.



She slowly walks out of the room,

now in the arms of the Grim Reaper.

Knowing that there is nothing I could do.



My teacher talks about what alcohol does to the body.

I lose it.

I just start shedding tears.

They come streaming down my face,

I'm not even trying to prevent them from falling onto my desk.

I can't just think "It's not real,"

Because it still feels real.



People tell me it's no big deal.

Maybe not to them, but it is to me.

I felt as if I was just Misunderstood.

Nobody even cared.

Except me.