Maybe one day you’ll find her in the bathroom
with her wrists hacked up and the thick red waterfall
of her own blood intermingling with her salty tears
and you’ll say, “It was the parents. We had no responsibility in this”

and the girl will become another statistic, and you’ll assign a five paragraph essay for the next day.

Maybe one day you’ll find him with his father’s tie wound around his neck
And a crumpled piece of paper in his stone-cold hands.
“I’m sorry” it’ll say, and you’ll flinch for a moment,
“It was too much”.

and you will announce his death right along with the pledge of allegiance and Friday’s football game.

maybe the boy and the girl will meet
in heaven where they can shine in their ethereal glory
and you are not breathing down their necks
telling them who they must become.

maybe one day the demands placed on students
will be less than the demands of our minds telling us that we are not worth the breath in our lungs
that there is too much to accomplish in a twenty-four hour day and not quite enough time in the world
that we must rob ourselves of sleep in order to get all that is needed to be done completed
even though you tell us,
“Teens need 8-10 hours of sleep!” with your
cheery pamphlets and the fake smiles plastered on your faces
if you keep that grin up
trust me
it’ll look like you care.

maybe one day you will not turn a blind eye to the children who die for a reason each year.
maybe you will acknowledge it.
maybe, just maybe,
the boy and the girl will not become another statistic.