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The Bus Ride Home
There's a little red bird,
that I pass everyday
on my way home from school
on the bus.
He sits on a somewhat broken,
yet strong brown branch
of a tiny tree.
Sometimes,
in the little puddles
that formed from melting snow
and pouring rain,
I'll see little lines
that remind me
of heartbeats of those
I saw in the hospitals.
It reminds me of those
who didn't make it.
It reminds me of those
who were strong,
and those who are still here
standing with me.
I hear laughter
coming from the back of the bus.
I start to wonder,
does every little thing I pass,
mean something important?
How many people laughing,
go home and cry in their room
every single day
because of something that has been said.
How many bullies go home
and deal with their
drunk,
sick,
or abusive parents
and get put through it all?
Who's going to go home
just to receive bad news?
I begin to think,
I think of the music that's currently playing
in my small ears.
Did Eminem go through all of this?
Did he ever wonder about things like this?
I know he's angry.
I feel his pain.
I know he's not alone,
but I'm not alone anymore either.
I hope I won't be alone for a while.
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