The Notebook

She kept the notebook, very close to her heart,
Careful not to leave it behind, never having her and it part.
She wanted no one, to know of her problems,
She wanted no one to read her endless sad poems.

She sat in the corner of the gym on the floor,
Writing in her notebook, her emotions just pour.
She was beaten up, and needed to vent her sadness,
She needed to get rid of her tears and stress.

She wrote of her death, and signed the date,
Got a thought in her mind, which she had to debate.
After a minute or two, decided it was time,
So she finished her last sentence and made sure it rhymed.

She went to the bathroom, took out the gun,
Put it to her head and said, “well this was fun”.
She pulled the trigger, and fell to the ground,
People heard the shot, and gathered around.

They picked up the notebook, and read the poem aloud,
As people sniffled and cried among the small crowd.
They felt so bad, for all they had done to this girl,
But they all moved on, as the world continued to whirl.