I wrote this poem last spring when a tragedy happened at our school. A 12-year-old boy committed suicide by jumping out a window during a school day. The reasons why are still unknown but there was a lot of talk about depression. This is for him and all the people who believe in something better than what's currently happening this world.
I have a little sister.
Well, what means little, she’s actually
already as tall as I am.
But she is younger, still in high school.
Same school that I went to.
500 pupils,
Sunshine yellow bathrooms.
Teachers who’ve been working there for 100
years,
teachers who want to show what’s happening
in real life
but are not allowed to.
The syllabus is overloaded
‘cause there’s so much pressure
that our kids have be educated properly.
There’s no time for field trips or even a 5
minute break.
Tears are streaming down my sister’s face,
revising until midnight.
She has to teach herself
what they were supposed to have learned in
school.
Childhood and freedom are foreign concepts.
Look them up in the dictionary,
next week you’ll be tested on them.
Bullying and depression,
that’s reality.
In the past we had to look up these words.
Today they roll off our tongue
as if they were bouncy balls.
The truth is, these words mean blood and devastation.
A 12-year-old boy jumps out a window from
the third level
of his own school.
A school where the teachers liked him,
where he had friends.
People gossip, seldom think.
Some might actually say something
but we tape their mouths shut
and lock the doors.
Doors that could lead to so many
opportunities.
Windows through which we could fly.
Instead we jump.
