Wearing her red hood, she walked briskly through the forest.
Grandma lived nearby, she had seen her on that day.
The tree with the perfect bough waited like an old friend,
And as she threw the loop of rope over it she paused,
Enjoying the comfort of natures lonesome tranquillity.
Then she hung and swung so that she could remain free.
You see, hoods in red were so, well, yesterday.
She could not afford to keep up any more,
The fashions price label was now paid in full.
The hill was quite steep, making the climb hard work.
Jack was running on ahead as was always the case,
Jill struggled behind, weeping, once again in his shadow.
Today was to be different as she took the closed path,
A hopeless look upon her face, limbs hanging limp.
Then she fell for him for the last time, down the mine shaft.
Despite her best efforts she thought that she was too fat,
Why else would he have failed to notice her love for him?
A multitude of skinny models gave her the final shove.
Author notes
Option 5.
Name: Dreamana
There are so many reasons that young people take their own lives, but on far too many occasions the media are holding a smoking gun. The pressure to conform is so intense these days, and I truly feel for young, vulnerable people.
A contest entry
- Plethora Of Options by Play Pretend..
650 points, ended June 10, 2008, 27 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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wow, this was very outside the box type of thing. It seems very modern to what some of todays teenagers think and go through. Kinda overly dramatic come to think of it. But overall a good write. hope all is well
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Not quite what I like reading on a general basis but I must admit that you have sweet skill in writing.
Very nice
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Wow. Dark nursery tale. Great job. The pressure to conform is so very intense. I try not to. But sometimes your just swept in. Like you have no choice. Great poem!
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A thought provoking narrarive description of the life you are here with my friend......and my thanks for sharing such a wonderful piece..well done...
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Bitter, horrible true poem.
I liked you you worked suicide into childrens stories like that... slightly eerie.
Good job and thanks for entering.
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