Eighth Grade and Forever

I watch my friend walk through a foreign land
Of glorified loneliness and shame
Cropped hair and a perpetual glare is her new secret handshake
I sit in limbo as she runs from one corner of this waiting room to the next
The white walls of this asylum of an eighth grade class
Make my knees weak and my mind tired
This transition between middle and high school
Exists as nothingness
Personality and patience is tested here
And I'm not sure who's passing
Stereotypes abound in this prejudiced wonderland
And as I walk away with substitutes and lies
They spit at my friend in the corner
"Emo"
The emotion inside my friend is expressed not in words
But in color draining from her clothes
I pick my nails and my words
In a last effort to comfort her
She attempts suicide once, twice, three times, four
I walk from this waiting room
I walk right out the door
Months pass and I wonder
Is she still running there?