This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Oxford Emory chapter.
You did not stab me in the back.
no not at all.
You slowly poisoned me
till I gasped for air
confused as to how
I was so close to
not living.
You held me at my knees
when all I needed was oxygen
and told me that it wasn’t free.
That I was not deserving of it.
Confusion rattled all my limbs
until I lie paralyzed
For I could not look into your eyes
And forget his.
As the poison finally reached me,
brought me to my final seconds.
You turned to me wholeheartedly
and said that this was you
being
considerate.