All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Danced On My Grave
I place my hands above me.
Can’t get out
I push on the walls next to me.
Can’t get out.
I push on the floor.
Can’t get out
Its pitch black.
I I’m closed in this little space.
I don’t get it, where am I?
I woke up here.
I was just walking down the street.
There was a short pain and then this.
Was I kidnapped?
Was I hurt?
Did somebody want to kill me?
Above me, people cry.
They put flowers where I lay.
My friends and family gather their, grieving over a lost son.
But I’m not dead. Not yet.
But not he.
But he doesn’t grieve.
He doesn’t sob
He doesn’t cry.
Not even a frown.
He stays in the corner.
He hides his smile
He did this to me.
He killed me.
Then danced on my grave.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.