IBMC #06: The Mass Media Challenge


I still remembered the last time I talked to her on the telephone. She said she was okay. I tried to understand her feeling as I was in her shoe. But I failed to reach her heart. She was like a light that guide me on my hard times. She was too bright until others caught her shine. Why she had to be bullied? Look at her now; she is as fragile as a dried twig. .

This was her short poem for our high school graduation party performance:


search of skin,

color no matter,

brighter or darker,

tell no one,

I will take someone,


– ghost, me!


I never know why she wrote that poem, she left me here without saying anything. I always come to this place, watching the scarlet sky that she loves. I wonder if she would be okay when I said I want to meet her and put this ring to her finger.


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