Mud bath
Doc Martens
Back of head
Off the beaten path
Still beaten
But at least not dead
**** off, they said
Don't understand what I did
But was
Drowning in the ground
One day they'll come around
To me
Doc Martens
Back of head
Off the beaten path
Still,
Beaten
Dead.
Sep 1, 2020
Sep 1, 2020 at 12:17 PM UTC
Mud bath
Doc Martens
Back of head
Off the beaten path
Still beaten
But at least not dead
**** off, they said
Don't understand what I did
But was
Drowning in the ground
One day they'll come around
To me
Doc Martens
Back of head
Off the beaten path
Still,
Beaten
Dead.
Inspired by several news stories about bullying. What struck me was the tragedy of the bullied person coming back, again and again, to the bullies, probably craving attention, perhaps hoping for eventual acceptance, and how that same need (to return, to be accepted) not only intensified the bullying but justified that intensity ("What did he expect? He kept coming back for more!") In the extreme case, the intensification resulted in death. The death itself was seemingly blamed in part on the victim ("Well, he didn't object to us doing X, so naturally we tried X+1. I guess it's sad that X+1 killed him, but all he had to do was [...] and he didn't, so, you know: he didn't save himself.") One of the acts of bullying that struck me was walking on the victim's body, especially across puddles, gravel and mud. I was also surprised by how poorly the bullies were able to explain why they chose their particular victims. Their explanations amounted to: (1) he existed, (2) he existed around us, (3) he kept existing around us despite what we were doing, and (4) he was weird.
Request permission to use this poem