The phone rings in the middle of the night
Afraid, you don't want to answer
But still the ringing continues, beckons
For you to cradle its plastic shell
You stare at it
Fearful of who is calling
Fearful of the news
But wanting to answer
To relieve yourself of worry
Yet you linger because you know
Know it is bad news
News you don't want to hear
News you can't handle
The ringing stops
You're stomach is tied in knots
You hear someone crying down the hall
And a voice sobbing "She's dead".
Bianca Berry Serene
- 16 years, 4 months, 2 days ago