This heart has been
The smallest boy in the
Schoolyard.
Picked on, punched.
Called names, pointed at
With raw laughter of the
Cruel, cruel kind.
Grew skin as solid as its
Ability to draw
Lines, and stand for them.
I will not accept.
Sometimes pulse
Is the heart
Beating
Back.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
This heart has been
The smallest boy in the
Schoolyard.
Picked on, punched.
Called names, pointed at
With raw laughter of the
Cruel, cruel kind.
Grew skin as solid as its
Ability to draw
Lines, and stand for them.
I will not accept.
Sometimes pulse
Is the heart
Beating
Back.
