So this is a poem I dug up the other day that I wrote in 10th grade haha. good ol' 2006. It was written after the Dawson shooting in Montreal, and goths were getting a lot of difficulty for theit EDGY and MURDEROUS way of dressing. I submitted this to show the other side.

I'm more proud of the message than the wordson this one. it wad not well written

It started with black boots
Snapping agianst the earth
Drawing attention from all gathered
a hollow sound in the resonating silence

It is hard to see her features
the under lying cloth she wears
One can simply imagine
One can visualize the atire

A t-shirt void of color
all save the deepest of shades
Jeans as dark as the midnight's soul
Rips and tears caress the fabric

Her true eye color is unknown
Her contacts appear to distort them
Her hair is the shad of the abyss
Visible appear to be streaks of blood

Over all is the trench coat
Covering her every step
Shrouding her walk in mystery
Disguising her figure in horror

All watch her approach with dread
Not another, not at the memorial
She walks to the center, to the parents
Slowly, she searches her coat's folds

The viewers cringe, ready to run
Then they see, not metal, but soft red
The girls smiles, and pulls out the rose
Handing it to the distraught prents, she says:

"The body count low
The cost so high
That one year ago
The day she died"

"My love to you
Though I didn't know her
My sympathy this day
in september"

A poem is but words on paper or on a screen. The true love is in our hearts, as is the pain and sadness. I cannot express the sorrow I feel for that tragic day.

I dedicate this poem to those who were present on that day, one year ago, when we lost a girl who was special to many people.This is for all who witnessed that day.

13.09.06