A Collection Of Pain

• Melinda Mcfarland, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2015

She looked back through the door and thought it to be a bore so she turned back to the gate and it must have been fate, for those precious golden arches turned its back on the child who marches.
She sat on the branch, high in the tree, watching them cry and lie but she didn't bother with them after all they didn't care, if they did the she wouldn't be in the tree and they wouldn't be there.