I Am Already Dead

• Shannon Baker, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2013

Cold hands pull me out of bed,
The monsters of the night remain,
Hovering over me like a stormy cloud,
Before raining once again.

Beating me and lashing me,
Have I done this to myself?
Or is this just what happens,
To those who sit upon the shelf.

Old and forgotten,
Like a long lost childhood toy,
I bear only one difference in that,
I do not bring long lost joy.

The sadness and the darkness,
They seem to be my friends,
And like all good friends we will,
Be together until the end.

The end draws ever nearer now,
Cold hands pull me out of bed,
Please don't bother I tell them,
For I am already dead.