Prize Poetry

That Last Step #2

by a young woman, age 14

Were you beat down?
Were you so bruised you couldn't stand?
I have felt the pain.
Is the pain I'm feeling and felt, the same one you felt?
I'm sorry, I wasn't there for you.
I didn't know.
I'm sorry if I ever hurt you.
Did I?
Was it something I said?
Something I did?
Is that why the tears that you shed are now gone?
Why the rope found it's way around your neck?
And held you, like a freeway out of this horrid world?
Why you caused so many to shed tears over your non-breathing corpse?
Did they keep pushing you and pushing you till you just fell off the ledge?
Is it right to call it sickness? The word that many have used? Even you?
I don't find that right.
It wasn't a sickness.
But a feeling.
You felt it deep from your heart and soul.
It made a black hole, right?
Did you fall into it?
You did, didn't you?
Falling and falling but never reaching the end.
The neverending terror of the bottom.
Is that what you felt?
I know I did.
But I'm here. You left. No warning. Just gone.
Why did you?
Were you that selfish?
I'm sorry if I seem harsh.
But too many have already shed too many tears and blood over the graves.
Here's what happens.
We say we will remember you and always love you.
But what happens when we die?
We won't be able to remind people of your name because we won't be here.
We won't live on for eternity.
It's no lie that we miss you, wishing you were here laughing with us.
Shedding tears with us.
Smiling with us.
But all good things come to an end.
I understand the step you took off the cliff, but was it worth it?
You poor soul, lost in the sea below the cliff.
Nowhere to go and nothing to see.
Ignored by Heaven and unwelcome in Hell.
Forgotten and erased by time.
Sealed and locked, your fate once you took that step.
Was that last step worth it?


[Author Statement: "When I came to know the Pongo writing website, I was going through a dark time in my life. I was in dire need of pouring myself out to something. My cousin had just committed suicide, and though we weren't really close, I felt kind of hollow which didn't help me get over my uncle's death that was a few years back. My depression was getting the best of me, but I acted like I was fine in front of other people. So I decided to get rid of all this sadness I was hiding, through writing. I would write in a notebook everything I felt and all about my hatred for life. When Pongo came, I felt more liberated, for I could pour my heart out and no one will know who I am. I write a poem on Pongo every time something makes me angry or sad, or sometimes just out of the pure pleasure of writing. I hope other teens get inspired like I did."]


Other "Honorable Mention" Recipients, January 2014
Words of Wisdom  
Girl with the Scars