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Luna Casablanca Nov 2015
I never thought I’d find myself running outside on the sidewalk
Bearing to go faster just to be home.
I never felt my heart beat so fast
And tears overpower my beautiful face
As I cried for everything to stop while
Sprinting in school clothes and a backpack.
I never shook so much.

I could not even breathe as I pushed through the isle and jumped off the steps.
I screamed “No!” at the top of my lungs
When all the kids demanded I obey them
Because I was
Different.
I ignored the boy who laughed and asked why I was getting off.
I ran, I panted, and I found my mother in the house
Where I arrived early.
My own stop was two after the one
I ran off the bus.

I told her they wouldn’t let me have the backseat.
They restrained me by holding my arms, pushing my hand off,
And lashing their voices to the point I was shattered.
She reported this to my father.
They said I did the right thing.
Impressed by how I removed but mostly how
I ran.

In my yard I would see birds fly in and out of the trees.
How I wanted to be a Blue Jay and fly to wherever I could go.
I may not be able to fly,
But I could run, and wear the color blue.
I can run away and grow stronger more than any
Micromanaged child who was taught nothing but
Self-absorption.
I could run whenever I was in trouble and
Nobody dared to catch me due to my fiery
Speed.

Today, I write this with an icepack under my left foot.
I’m injured, but will be back to my usual
Routine eventually.
The nasty kids are where it all started.
I told them not to cry to me when they received an
“F” in gym.
If they do, I’ll run away ;).
I remember this story of when I was bullied whenever I am running distance and succeeded like I did getting off the bus where I was bullied everyday, manhandled if I got the backseat, and lashed, yelled, and screamed at. I am a runner now, this is where the past lead me.
Renie Simone May 2015
"If I could go back,
and knew what I know,
I'd change a few things,
and shake up the flow.

I might go to class,
be where I should be,
Say and wear what I wish,
And only be me.

Ignore the ignorant,
hold dearest friends close,
Respect authority,
see where it goes.

Have love and compassion,
a watchful mind,
Keep ears wide open,
and always be kind.

Harbour a strong heart,
let others be shared,
Make sure I remind them,
that I always care(d).

So, if I could go back,
and knew what I know,
I might change a few things,
and see where it goes."
eli Feb 2015
I learned my place quickly. See,
among the kids on the playground, I
was never fast. I was a joke among tag-players;
it is no exaggeration that I never tagged anyone.

But tag-you’re-it was the least of my worries.

I learned my place quickly, chased down
daily by a pack of boys from my class. To this day,
I couldn’t tell anyone what started it. I kept to myself:
They were wolves, and I was the rabbit they were hunting.
Run aground, pebbles kicked in my face; it was
just like the bullies in the cartoons—
But when it’s one little girl against six boys, I couldn’t find
the humour in it:
Cartoons like that didn’t make me laugh anymore.

I learned my place quickly. “Boys will be boys,”
Was the response from teachers when I came back inside:
crying, covered in dirt, shaking the pebbles out of my shirt.
“It just means they like you.” Yet I couldn’t grasp how
pushing me to the ground, kicking dirt and rocks into my face
equated to affection. If that was how boys acted then I
would rather die than have a boyfriend.

Their antics were validated on principle that they were boys,
and so their dominance in society was assured from day one.
The rest of us, the prey, had to deal with it; I would be sent to
The principal for this principle because I became desperate
and would hide in the woods just to get away.
I was reprimanded and shamed, while the boys got
a gentle slap on the wrist,
and a reminder:
“Play nice.”

I learned my place quickly.
another poetry class assignment, this time we had to write a poem about childhood.
Amy Genova Feb 2015
In class the ******* and white tick-tock pinched
my mid-morning belly. When everyone else
borrowed numbers, my pencil lead and yellow paint
scratched out hunger. Minutes chugged like school
buses.  Even columns of three-numeraled numbers
minused the bottom line, scold of lunch.

A borrowed quarter and dime from the office,
meant a secretary’s red-lipsticked mouth, bent
and accusing.  Her coiffed curls shook my dreams.
I would starve before sailing into that office
for my little belly, but forever yearned for the secretary
to pet my hair. Say, “There, there,”like to a character
in a book rosy with girls in gingham dresses.

But, for all those lovely boats of hot lunches: meatloaf
with crusts of catsup like a winter cap, buttered beans,
dinner rolls
and cold-cartoned milk, not watered down--

Missing lunch,  I'd hide out in the cold storage
room of sack lunches next to the playground.
While the others ate, I'd escape at the right tick
into the recess of blacktop and tetherball.
Ember Evanescent Dec 2014
I left that Elementary school so relieved
Because killing myself hadn't been successful
And I just wanted to escape
Even after the rope didn't work
I somehow lasted
To the end of the year
I was eleven then.
I hoped the next time I saw you
I would look pretty
I could show you
I am more than just
The ugly girl in the back row
Who doesn't own clothes as nice as yours
Never had a pretty face
Never wore make up
Because she wasn't allowed in the sixth grade
Who wasn't a flawless dancer like you
And was endlessly depressed
Who hated herself more than anyone else
Although there were close seconds
I wanted to be really pretty, and really skinny, with friends
Three things I never had in Elementary
More importantly though,
I wanted to be smiling the next time I saw you
To prove I could be happy
Because I didn't laugh that entire last year
In fact, I smiled only 8 times in total
I hoped to maybe have a boyfriend
Because the boy I liked for 7 years
Liked you
I saw you that very first day
And as usual
You acted like we never knew each other
I looked pretty ******
I felt fat in the shirt I was wearing
And you were dressed so much prettier than me
My friends were elsewhere
So it looked like I was still a loner
I was having a bad make up day
And I was in a bad mood
So I wasnt smiling.
I guess "Goth girl"as you used to call me
If I wore black shoes that day
The suicidal loser that everyone hated
Doesn't look like she's changed much to you, does she.
She wins again, of course. As usual.
Ember Evanescent Dec 2014
If the power goes out in an elementary school, hell has official frozen over.
Bad memories, suicide attempts, depression, bullying, *******, betrayal and *******. That's what comes to mind when someone says "Elementary School". Anyone else hate elementary school?
Sarah Pitman Jul 2014
When I was young,
they called my Hurricane.
Because even my brother feared my wrath.
Because “so help me god,
if you touch me one more time”
Wasn't a threat he completed.
Because Barbie never seemed like fun,
And GI Joe kicked so much ***.
“Hurricane”
Because the boys in elementary school
got punched when they called me names
And the boys in high school
Got slapped or pinched or kicked or flipped
Off for trying to kiss me without permission.
They called me Hurricane
Because if there was chaos,
it was me.
The wisdom of the ages

falls deaf on silent ears,

when those of 'better' knowledge

lack in better years.

The words they speak are naught but verse,

a pretty, failing void;

They barter time and trade despair,

and on ignorance are sold.

They traipse about with jaunty stride-

merrily nonchalant-

flinging thoughtless wording

like an idiot savant.

To all those who have viewed them,

they are deemed to be unfit;

For who would suffer morons

when they have but half a wit?

In truth, they are our future,

but 'tis a future that I'd fear;

Too many of this generation

talk and will not hear.

They crave with desperation

a life too dark and harrowed,

for live lived in deprivation

'tis a point of view too narrowed.

They do not seek a power inside,

instead, they seek a chalice;

in which all the world's a stage-

but 'tis a poison breeding malice.

Oh- I weep!

for the years that lie ahead-

my brain rebels in horror,

my heart bleeds, raw and red;

The youth are turning old enough,

the future is uncertain;

and all because the high schools

treat education like a curtain.

"Behind this doors, labeled number one,

we have a distant future,

where minding manners, and respect

will make you kind and nurtured;

where all the pathways open up,

and you've made a great success;

...Or pick door number two,

and make life, now, a mess."

Of course our ****-sure young ones

will pick the latter door-

for partying, and breaking rules,

surely, there couldn't be more?

So to all the world, I say Nay!!

This is not the way for things to transpire!

What happened to change, and progress??

What happened to stoking the fire??

I won't support a mindless flock,

I will not suffer fools;

But most of all, I will not suffer

no education in our schools.

— The End —