Voices to Leave Behind

 I offered warning signs.

I thought I had given enough time.

I stood in line waiting for you to notice before I committed my crime.

You’re taught that you should learn from your mistakes.

But you didn’t care my tears fell like snowflakes.

I hoping you’d realize before I was gone.

Instead you created a game of lies and I was your pawn.

What should I have given to get your attention?

I needed to convince myself I mattered, just a little motivation.

No one stopped me and that proved my theory right.

They handed me the poisonous apple to bite.

I left behind my soft, angelic voice…

Since you all never wanted to change my choice.

I pray the memory of my face eats at your heart.

Even tears all that’s left of your dark minds apart.

I didn’t want my tapes to be the only time you listened.

Now your souls can rot in hell and that will finish my mission.



Caught your attention didn’t it?  Did it make you sit up, make your gut churn, your heart race? Did your brain start screaming “No!”? 

 I hope so. 

 Because I want you to feel the same things I did.  Because a teenager wrote this.  A young, vibrant, beautiful, intelligent, 14-year old girl wrote this.  My granddaughter wrote this.

Oh, but there’s more.

Until We Meet Again

You never got the chance to feel my love.

Instead you chose to push and shove.

I would’ve liked the chance for you to take my hand.

To be able to give you the glances you demanded.

You wanted to be confusing and complicated.

You were surely lovely and underestimated.

Your voice is what lingers in what remains of my heart.

For you, I would’ve taken this world apart.

To have you just one last time,

To hold in my arms as finally mine.

I let the clock run out and now I deserve to shout.

From the pain that was pushed upon you…

Should now be forced on people who never stayed true.


 Are you really feeling it now?  I hope so.

A little back story here.  Raven read these to me.  And while she was reading, the horror of what she was saying almost shattered me.  Her mother was in the room, saw the look on my face, and said wait, let her finish, there’s more to the story. 

 Ever hear of a book called “Thirteen Reason Why” by Jay Asher?  I hadn’t.  But Raven had, and asked for it for Christmas.  I do not know the reason or reasons behind why she asked for the book.  We have not had a chance to talk about it.  But we will, trust me we will. 

 Back to the back story.  I was immediately asked by her mother to tell them what I thought was happening in those poems.  Remember, now, I still did not know about the book.  My brain did not want to process this.  But I knew.  Something horrible happened.  She committed suicide.  I almost could not get that word out.  Because I had just heard my granddaughter reading to me.  About suicide.

 I’ve read it now.  You need to read it too.  It’s a very painful book to read.  It’s about another young, vibrant, beautiful, intelligent, teen-aged girl.  Who committed suicide.  Because she thought she did not matter.  I won’t tell you what happens in the book  I want you to read it.  It matters.  A lot.

 I had a friend in high school who one day lay down on the rail road tracks and “went to sleep”.  That’s what we were told.  Can you imagine?  He fell asleep on the tracks.  And was killed by a train.  I was 15 years old.  I grew up in an era where you did not talk about those kinds of things.  So we were told he fell asleep.  On the railroad tracks.  And I accepted it.  He was a cute boy, full of fun, and I just adored him.  It’s all back in my head now and somehow I have finally realized the probable truth of what happened, although I will never know for sure.  I hope he hears me out there.  I am sorry.  You mattered a great deal to me.  You really mattered to me.

 And then there were the almost suicides.  The ones that as a small child I had no way of processing and for the rest of my life would try to understand the “whys” and carry the pain of wondering if I mattered.  Because if I did matter, why would that person try constantly to leave me on my own, so tiny, young, and alone?

But I digress.  This isn’t really my story.  It is Raven’s story.  About how a book that meant so much to her and affected her so deeply that she wrote those poems.  Those poems were part of a homework assignment.  She was supposed to pick a book, read it, and then write “in character” about the book.  Imagine getting inside a character’s head so deeply that she was able to write these.  Both astounding and horrific at the same time.  Astounding because the poems are so brilliantly beautiful.  Horrific, because in order to write so deeply and beautifully, you just know in your heart Raven can identify with Hannah and Clay.  Raven can feel their pain.  She understands.  And ultimately, SHE wants to know she matters too.

 And, oh she does.  She matters so very very much.

 I hope you read this.  Really really read this.  I hope you read the book.  I hope you send this on to others so they can read this too.  And, hopefully, read the book.  Its important.  It matters. 

 I may or may not know you but I want you to know.  You matter.  You matter a lot.

Beneath The Pretty Face

Look deep into my hazel eyes.

further behind the tears I cry…

I wale, I pound, I scream.

If only life was just a dream.

I’m made of fine, delicate crystals;

Therefore, I won’t choose the pistol.

I can’t break and I won’t shake.

They need to see what’s left of me.

The beauty they never chose to see.

You’ll hear my voice always running through your mind.

You could’ve opened your eyes and not have been so blind.

You should’ve felt my knives of sharp pain and struggle.

My heartache and emotions were left all for me to juggle.

Decisions you make determine your fate.

Unscramble my puzzle before it’s too late and I choose my date.

~ Hannah Baker