Jay's Poems

Well, this is my book of poems I've written over the pas couple of months since I started writing.

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17. In School


ONE DAY IN SCHOOL:

You OK?
*Yeah, I'm grand.*
(Actually I'm battling depression, looking for help, lost in a sea of silence.)


You don't look Ok. You sure?
*Yeah. I'm just tired.*
(Tired of trying to fit in, of trying to hide it.)


I'm here if you need me, K?
*I told you I'm grand!*
(Actually, I would love to talk but I'm scared you'll think I'm fucked up.)


Calm down. It's all right.
*Just leave me alone.*
(I don't want your help! I can do it alone.)


I think you need to talk to someone.
*Whatever.*
(I can't. They'll think I'm mad.)


THE NEXT MORNING IN SCHOOL:


*Knock Knock.* Can I have Jenny for a minute please.
*Sure miss.*
(Fuck. Now what have I done? What if she's seen my scars?)


Come with me Jenny.
*OK, miss.*
(Do I have a choice? No.)


Jenny, one of your classmates said you seemed down lately.
*Uh-huh.*
(Well I've been slicing my body up with a knife. I've been thinking about my family that don't care. My friends that don't exist. I guess you could say I'm "Down".)


If there is anything you want to talk about, Jenny, just tell me, OK? I'm here to help.
*Sure miss. I'm grand.*
(You are in your arse. You don't know the half of it.)


Are you sure you're OK?
*Yes miss.*
(No. I'm not. I'm scared of myself, what I might do, what I can do.)


Ok. Go back to class.
*Thanks miss.*
(Fucking bitch sticking her nose where it's not wanted.)


A FEW DAYS LATER, IN SCHOOL, IN THE COUNSELLORS OFFICE:


So Jenny. What can I help you with?
*Not much sir. My techer sent me here.*
(Everything. Oh, God, everything. Please just help me.)


She must have had a reason to think this.
*One of my classmates thinks I'm depressed.*
(One of my classmates actually has eyes and can see my suffering.)


Why do you think they're wrong?
*Because I know my own feelings, sir. I am grand.*
(I don't. They are right. I am depressed, sir.)


Well if you are so sure, tell me how you feel right now about life.
*Grand. It's a good life.*
(Sir, it's horrible. I have no friends, I'm being bullied, I'm cutting, I've almost commited suicide. Help me.)


Is that the truth, Jenny?
*N-n-no, Sir.*
(Of course not! I am constantly sad, and angry, and annoyed, and I just want help.)


So tell me the truth.
*Well, sir, it's a long story.*
(It truly is sir. I've been depressed for 3 years. It's a very long story.)


I've got time.
*Thank you sir.*
(Thank you. Today, I was going to go home and kill myself. Now, I am going to go home, and go out with some people. Make an effort. Live life to the full.)

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