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Aug 2020
Prowling past that particular clique,
You’re like a wild grizzly bear,
Roaming abreast of a menacing car, Overflowing with inattentive humans.
They always cramp the locker hallways,
So you feel compelled to awkwardly shuffle around them,
Just to safely get to your locker.
Of course their crowd blocks you’re path,
Like the Berlin Wall,
Detaining outsiders from invading their region.
You’re hoping you don’t crash into them,
Oh their piercing laughter,
And their wounding tongue,
It’s the locker boys.
Hanging out in a flock near the lockers,
Resembling a swarm of geese on a humid morning,
A sight you’d see on a walk at dawn near the local pond.
You pretend to immerse yourself into your phone,
Your head to the floor.
Timidly pacing by,
Hoping they don’t pay attention to you,
Or snicker behind your back.
Locker boys,
These are the bullies,
That damaged you.
They tortured you with virtual remarks,
Hurled you into the dimness of the shade,
And titled you as “uncool”.
You’re insecure trekking past the tormentors that misused you,
And poked at your blemishes.
They are the people that sprinkled table salt on your scars,
And cackled at you bawling in distress.
You’re growing weaker,
Like a flower sinking six feet under,
Owing to the Sahara sun.
To them you are easy prey,
For affliction.
You’re hiding from them,
Even though you don’t wish to gift them with this fragile version of you.
You’re stripping your own character,
To let them carry on with their fiery crimson flames.
How do you narrow their blazing self-conceit?
Instead of feeding the fire wood,
Give them the air of the serene sea.
Gaping over your shoulder,
You see them,
The well-liked untouchable jocks.
You whirl around,
And dauntlessly stride towards the crowd.
Ambling through the flames,
And piercing through the middle like a seemingly endless stream of water.
Ripping soil into the two fringes of a water coarse,
And snipping fire into two,
You plop next to your locker,
And smile at the flames that once hurt you.
Fire overtook you,
But you’re not a deserted forest under the Egyptian sun,
You’re the water,
Of a thunderstorm drizzle,
A tidal flow from the sea,
And a beautiful flowing stream.
You may be water,
But you’re strong.
Strong enough to be oblivious by foolish flames,
And powerful enough to defeat them along the way.
Locker boys,
Won’t ******* me anymore.
Farzeen Rashid
Written by
Farzeen Rashid  16/F/Surrey BC Canada
(16/F/Surrey BC Canada)   
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