V

On my way to my second class,

Me close de Mrs. Holloway,

130      I told my old friend, my Scarlett Lorraine

To excuse me while I went to the restroom.

She said she would see me in class.

But I had no intentions to show.

Mrs. Holloway, the knowledge-giver,

135      Got worried about my absence.

She sent my savior-friend to the waste room

To see what had me occupied.

There she found me on the floor

Surrounded in hot red lava.

140      I felt it flowing from my wrist,

My limbs all going numb.

Scarlett ran to my side

Blood and all.  She wrapped me in her arms

Pressing on my wound to stop the flow.

145      She holds me close to her chest

Crying as I cry too.

She tells me everything will be alright.

She’ll make it better but I don’t see how.

I’m irreplaceable damage, soul and all.

150      Yet still I hold my tongue.

I can not tell her about the shack,

About Eric, about me.  I’m stuck

Forever burdened, all alone.

She leaves me alone on the bathroom floor

155      But quickly she returns.

Scarlett comes bearing bags of school-clothes sorts.

She helps me change my shirt, my pants

Then helps me to my feet.  In the mirror

A stranger is seen with clothes of cheer

160      And mangled hair.  An oxymoron

At its best.  Scarlett walks with me

Carrying my weight as we make our way

To her driving car.  She drives away

To the doctors house to replenish my blood lost.

165      She takes me home and to my room,

Where once was a dungeon now stands a sanctuary,

A place for me to hide.

Upon my four post comfort zone

My hero lays me down.

170      She watches over me, my guardian angel,

My savior from myself.

She stays with me the whole night through,

Holding me, comforting me, oblivious to the cause.

Next morning she leaves me but wanting not

175      For fear I’ll try once more

To end my life on mortals-hell.