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
To Follow My Life
In the dark of night,
I went to find you.
No one know,
That I loved you.
I came to your house,
And gave myself entry.
What I found,
Was not you.
What I found was the scene of a murder.
I found you lying,
There on the kitchen floor.
The murder weapon,
Was clearly the knife forced into your chest.
Your phone was lying,
Next to you,
91 were the numbers on the screen.
I stepped forward,
And gingerly removed the phone,
From the spreading pool of blood.
I added a 1,
And called the police.
When they came,
I let them in.
They looked at your body,
They looked at the knife.
I told them all I knew of you.
I told them of a sad child,
With raven-black hair,
And blue eyes.
With a rare smile,
And an even rarer laugh,
Both of which could lift away any darkness.
I told them of a young woman,
Who was kinder than any,
And was brave enough to face,
Any challenge the world would give her.
I told the police,
About how I found you,
Lying on the ground.
With your phone beside you,
In a pool of your spreading blood.
What I never told the police,
Was that I would find your killer,
And that I would kill him.
It took me a week,
Before I realized two things;
Who the killer was,
And also,
That my life died with you.
One week and one day after your death,
I drove my car,
And slammed into his,
On the Golden Gate Bridge.
The killer’s car went over the side,
And I opened my door.
I heard police sirens wailing,
And I choose for my body,
To follow my life.
And I walked into my car,
And rove off the bridge,
To allow my body to follow my life.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 14 comments.
