The End

Walking across the lonesome beach

I try to follow my own footsteps

but I discover that they've been washed away.

Around the school, my name has been erased

as if it never existed.

I trace the faint markings that's been left behind

and sigh in complete regret.

Back in the classroom, the teacher has aged

and the students are new faces.

One raises their hand to ask about the 'incident'

as the teacher looks down in response.

No one wants to face reality--

Slowly I walk as if I was in a crawl

as I look over the names written in stone

across the memorial in the depths of the park.

Each one I've recognized so clearly

and I see their faces above.

The hand of my friend extends to me,

calling out to me--to join the endless party.

This poem is a respost from my blog on myspace.