AN/ Yeah couldn't think of a better title. I wrote a poem about my sister being annoying and got sent to the counselor's office, and then I thought, what if Bella had to write a poem.
Disclaimer: I don't own twilight, BUT THE POEM IS MINE!! You can't take that!
Bella's POV (wow this is the first time I've done her POV)
I was sitting in English wishing I was dead when Mr. Mason assigned us a poem. It had to be about how we were feeling right then and there.
Like a stupid pop quiz. I still had a hard time talking to Mr. Mason. He had the same last name as he did when he was human.
Mr. Mason passed out the paper and told us to start. All of my emotions from the past month unfolded on paper before I knew what I was doing.
I stand in the rain
As the clouds shed the tears I cannot cry
For fear of never stopping.
I lie on a blanket and let the snow chill my skin
A small reminder of your stone cold armsI can't stand the sun
Yet I hate the clouds
The nightmares just keep coming
Because you're not around
So I'll let the clouds cry the tears I cannot shed
For fear of never stopping.
-Bella Swan
I didn't even read it; it was like I was in a trance. I turned it in to the teacher's desk and left to go to lunch, when I never really ate. Lunch just reminded me of him.
The next day I was sent to the counselor's office. I walked down the deserted hallways cursing the counselor. I hated them with a passion. Even when something wasn't wrong they thought it was.
Sadly something was wrong with me.
I entered the office and sat down across from Mss. Owen. She looked up. She was a fairly creepy looking lady with beady eyes that watched your every move.
All in all, she scared me.
"So miss Swan." She started "this poem you've written has the school's faculty quite concerned." She said acting like she actually cared. "Would you mind telling me why you wrote it?" Maybe I could get out of this if I was careful enough.
"Well I really don't know what to tell you." I started. "I was just feeling kind of depressed and lonely that day at that particular time. If it had been another day who knows what I would have written?" I explained.
She bought it and as I was walking down the halls I decided something. No more real poems. I would have to be VERY careful about what I wrote from now on.
AN/ SO how do you like it?
REVIEW! It makes me happy!
