His mouth forms a wide smirk
as the others laugh at his words.
But it isn’t funny.

She lowers her watery eyes, glasses slipping
down her nose.

Book pages flip
in the breeze that picks up.
She loses her page.

His mouth opens, sharp daggers sliding
from his lips
Their laughter echoed by the trees.

She gets up, stumbles, falls.
Lines of carefully thought-out words tumble to the ground
his foot stretched out in front of her.

Their hands reach for the pages.
Fingers wrap
Around worn bindings.

They play tug-of-war,
trying to pull it out
of each other’s grasp.

A rip.

Papers scatter in the wind.
Snickers fade with the footsteps
as her eyes rain tears.

I bend down.
Papers fill my hands
one by one.

She looks up.
The sun lights up her clouded eyes
as she takes the faded pages,
in her grasp again.

Hey you,
Is it fun bullying me?
I wanna enjoy it too.
Why do you keep bullying me?
Is it because I'm way more better than you?

Hey you,
Have you ever thought what the bullied one goes through?
You can't even imagine what it is like to be being bullied
Because you're so lost in bullying others and enjoy it.
You're making that guy's self esteem and self confidence die within
Someday that bullied one will lose every hope and **** himself
Will you be enjoying even then?
Can you survive with the burden of his death?
Can you ever forgive yourself?
Or will you be regretting the rest of your life?

So man here's my advise
Stop bullying the weaker ones
Because days are not always the same
Someday someone stronger one may come
And then you'd be converted from a bully to a bullied one.

oh you poor thing,
with so much hate and bitterness in your small heart.
it's sad, seeing you constantly loathing.
doesn't it get tiring? i wonder.
when everyone learns and moves on,
you remain and persist,
like raging acne on a hormonal teen.
in the gates of closure you sit,
preventing progress.
does this bring you pleasure?
if it does, how disappointing,
that you feed off the "hurt" that people feel from your poisonous words.
like a child, you gossip,
and like adults, people continue on with their lives.
you act like you're on a moral high ground,
yet, you've done things more heinous than anyone i know.
in a few years, those you've ******,
would've grown into better people.
but, oh not poor you,
still clinging onto the past.
peace and tranquility,
it's something you should try sometime.
or maybe to put it more bluntly,
don't be such a **** human being.

I feel over my glass body
Everyday

Looking for the cracks
I'm sure will show again one day

Don't get too close to people
What if they try to crack me

I run my hand over the last crack
Like the last time

I open up and people are nice for a while
But then they turn

They lash out at me
And their words leave cracks

Broken and afraid
I stay away

It happens again and again
And my glass body is far too cracked

It can't be helped if I have to stick alone
It's the way I must live

i wake up sweating
i dreamt about some abstract concept i can't remember
the blaring of my alarm tone startles my sub-conscience

do i have to get up ?

the white lights are blinding even behind my eyelids
god, it ******* hurts.
i already feel the many gazes watching me from-- wherever
exposed.

the padding around me has no meaning
like a bird in a cage i am just decoration
hell-- one day i might start singing
humming mindlessly what they expect of me
another song, another, another.

i'm here for a cure for wellness.
they try to poison me with their words and their lies
they try to break my mind
my body
they try to break me.

and soon,
iwillbreak

We tagged him Candle Sticks,
Called him that
When he was six.
Snot oozed down
Around his lips.
It was one of those taunts
That seamlessly sticks.

When he ran in the race,
He finished dead last;
His pants fell down,
Exposing the ***,
Of a hometown clown.

Many times I'd see him
Standing in the movie line,
Taking his aisle seat.
Or stocking butter and cheese
In the dairy case at Foodland;
Or under the bridges,
On a bench, watching the freighters
Power on to foreign cities;
Smiling at the fishermen casting their lines.

I think I saw him cry,
In the library, reading the local paper
In a secluded carrel.

I heard he walked to the Bridge,
And jumped.
Candle Sticks.
It stuck.

We’re there
We’re visible
Maybe to a family member
Or a long time friend
Or a favourite teacher
But to everyone else
We’re invisible
Occasionally
We become visible
To a group that’ll punch our faces in
Of course we’ll be visible to the doctors
How else will we heal?
But after that
We’re invisible
Until the group strikes again

Can you see me?

~Dedicated to all victims of bullying, which include girls
& boys of all ages, sizes, and backgrounds.  (That includes me too.)~

Yvonne was very, very, very happy.
She loved her mother.
She loved her brother Phillip.
And she loved swans.
Oh, did she ever love swans!

She loved the way they looked
With their smooth, fluffy feathers,
And colorful beaks of orange, yellow and red.
She would watch them for hours
As they glided over water
In the pond at the park.

Her favorite thing was when two swans
Would get close, ever so close,
Head to head, forming a heart
With their beautiful, curved necks.

Her next favorite thing was
When baby swan cygnets
Would bunch together,
Closely following behind their mother.

She loved swans so much that she
Made a song about them.
Yvonne called it her Swan Song.

“Oh, lovely swan, as you swim in the pond,
Your baby cygnets play—I could watch them all day!
Whatever I do, when I think about you
I wonder if you think about me too!”

Yvonne sang her swan song
All the way to school in the morning
And all the way back home in the afternoon.

Yvonne loved school too.
She was a very good student.  
She studied hard for her tests.
Her grades were very good.
Her teachers were impressed.
Yvonne was helpful to her classmates.
And she was very, very, very happy.

One day a new kid showed up at school.
His name was Harry, and he seemed kinda cool.  
The teacher welcomed Harry to the class
And told everyone to be nice to him.
Harry was a little bigger than most of the kids.
And Harry didn’t smile.  He didn’t say a word.

Harry sat at the empty desk next to Yvonne.
Yvonne was excited about making a new friend.
“Hi, Harry.  I’m Yvonne.  Pleased to meet you.”
“Shut up!” Harry said.  “Leave me alone.”
Yvonne wondered why Harry was so mean.
In fact, he looked rather scary.
“Scary Harry” thought Yvonne.

Every day Yvonne and her friends would try to be nice to Harry.
Every day, Harry would be mean to them.
The only kids Harry liked were the bully kids,
The ones who were mean like Harry.
Harry was bigger and meaner.
Soon all the bullies were following him.

Every day they would pick on different kids.
One day they started picking on Yvonne.
Scary Harry taught his bully friends
An awful poem about Yvonne.  
They would shout it out when Yvonne came to school
And they would shout it out when she left for home too.

“Yvonne sang her swan song
She worked so hard all-day long.
When she came home she fell down
'Cause her legs didn’t have any bones!”

Yvonne was very hurt by their horrible, hateful poem,
And she would cry and run away as fast as she could.
Scary Harry and the bullies would laugh and laugh
And keep shouting it over again and again.

They also made up an awful poem
About Yvonne’s brother Phillip.

“Her brother’s name was Phillip.
He had such big wide hips.
When he tried to drink from a straw he couldn’t
'Cause his mouth didn’t have any lips!”

Yvonne was no longer very, very, very happy,
She felt fear, stress and sadness all the time.
Fear made her not want to go to school.
Sadness made her stop acting like her true self.

She no longer wanted to go to the park to see the swans.
Stress left her stomach in knots.
She found it hard to sleep.
What could she do?  
What would you do if this happened to you?

Yvonne did not want to be a tattletale,
But decided it would be best to tell her mother.
Yvonne told her everything.
About the new kid, Scary Harry, and the bully kids;
About them bullying her and her friends;
About the awful poems about her and Phillip;
About her fear of going to school;
About her sadness over not wanting to see the swans;
About the stress leaving her stomach in knots.
She told her mother everything,
And then she cried and cried and cried.

Her mother wept with her, and when the time was right she asked,
“What do you do when they bully you?”
“I start to cry and then run away” sobbed Yvonne.
“What do you WANT to do when they bully you?”
“I want to hit them hard and make them stop!”

With loving eyes, her mother replied
“Yvonne, I am so sorry for you.  But I know exactly what you should do.”
“Really?” Yvonne asked between sobs.
“Really!” responded her mother.  “Listen closely.”
Placing her hands gently on Yvonne’s shoulders,
Her mother kindly looked into Yvonne’s eyes and said:

“You can beat a bully without using your fists,
If you don’t react to their bullying.  
If you don’t react, the bullies will lose interest.
Don’t retaliate, or be mean to them,
Because that will only add to the problem.
Act confident, don’t be afraid.  
Bullies notice when you’re afraid.

Walk away, don’t run.  
It shows you have self-control,
Something the bullies don’t have.
Don’t walk to school alone.  
Walk with a friend.

Since bullies love secrecy, tell someone.  
Tell a teacher, just like you told me.
Even though you may feel like a tattletale,
You shouldn’t have to face it alone.”

Yvonne hugged her mother long and hard.
She was so happy she had finally told her mother.
“Let’s go to the park and see the swans” her mother said.
Yvonne, her mother and Phillip went, and had a wonderful time.
Yvonne felt like singing her swan song again,
So she sang it loud and strong
In the park by the pond and all the way home.

“Oh, lovely swan, as you swim in the pond
Your baby cygnets play—I could watch them all day!
Whatever I do, when I think about you
I wonder if you think about me too!”

The next day at school,
When scary Harry and the bully kids
Shouted the awful poems,
Yvonne remembered everything her mother had told her.
She even told her friends, so they would know what to do.
And she told her teacher too.

It didn’t take long before the bullying slowed down.
Scary Harry eventually stopped being as scary.
Yvonne was once again very, very, very happy.

She loved her mother more and more each day.
She loved her brother Phillip.
She loved her school too.
And she loved swans.
Oh, did she ever love swans!

I jumped on my bike as fast as I could
but not fast enough, it did me no good
the bully kid was big and mean and acted very tough
laughing all the while he quickly knocked me on my duff

Rubbing grass in my mouth, slapping me in the face
him laughing at me, me feeling so disgraced
he punched me so hard then left me crying on the ground
I slowly stood up, was there anyone else around?

I gathered up my books and slowly climbed on my bike
and pedaled straight home mustering all of my might
"What happened to you, son?" Mom was the first to see
I cried as I replied "I got beat by a bully!"

"I'm so sorry for you son, I'm so sad that you were harmed"
just then my dad walked in and immediately looked alarmed
Dad quickly asked me "Son, did you give him back the same?"
I sheepishly said "no" re-experiencing the shame.

My dad just stared awhile then said "I don't like what you're becoming.
Next time you better fight, give the bully what he's got coming!
First you punch him in the stomach then you hit him in the face
He won't hurt you any more, when you put him in his place!"

I slowly nodded as he left, then Mom quickly gave my cheek a kiss
"I'm so proud of you son for not fighting him with your fist
The Lord's servant doesn't need to fight but should be gentle instead"
"Yes ma'am" I quickly said as conflicting counsel twirled round my head

The next 5 years at school when tensions flared I was a gentle talker
as a bully approached my sophomore year I threw him against his locker!

Thank you Mom and Dad!