The Boy Who Rode My Bus

There is a boy who rides my bus.
Who has blue-grey eyes.
As clear as the lake the kids go swimming in.

He sits with his friends
and laughs a lot at little things.
And when his friends are silent,
he looks out the window.

I sit two seats behind him,
and I think he is beautiful.

There is a boy who rides my bus.
Who acts happy every morning.

From 7 am until he gets off the bus,
he sits with his friends,
and gives them empty smiles.
And wears long sleeves,
in the middle of summer.

I sit two seats behind him,
and I think he is beautiful.

There is a boy who rides my bus.
Who has blue-grey eyes as empty as the lake.
The one kid goes swimming in, but the winter.

He sits with his friends
and stares at his lap.
And when his friends say something funny,
he doesn't laugh anymore.

I sit two seats behind him,
and I think he's beautiful.

There was a boy who rode my bus
who was found by his parents,
after he had shot himself.

He wrote a letter to his friends,
and told them that he loved them.

He wrote a letter to his parents,
saying sorry.

And he wrote a letter to the sad girl,
who sat two seats behind him on the bus,

And he told her that she was beautiful.
♠ ♠ ♠
I found this poem and i love it. Its deep and sad at the same time.