Deep Within

I sit in the class

with all my best friends

laughing at their silly jokes

when I look behind

to find

my parents asking

why I am not packing.

So I walk to my drawer

and pull out all I own–

my bed and study table,

my colours and pencils,

drawing board and birthday cards,

letters and flowers,

and a stapler

to tie it all together

in a shoe box

that I’d carry to my new home.

I turn around one last time.

My friends disappear

one-by-one

in the rapidly darkening hall.

I hunt for a candle to light

so I won’t lose their sight

but there is none to find.

I feel no fear,

only deep inevitable pain,

an emptiness in my gut,

on losing

all that mattered the most.

I wake up choking on my tears

like every time

I dream of the days from the past.