I remember when
School was a good word
Spoken about through child to parent.
School is a word
A four letter word that has connotations
Of obscenity and frustration.
There were the fires. Three in my memory.
5th grade, no one to blame but wires.
7th grade, no one to blame but a random man.
8th grade, no one to blame but students smoking.
There were fights. Many fights.
One that stands out involved a teacher, a student,
A parent and her sister, and a gun.

There were elementary days.
Those were the times when I was young and naïve.
Those were the beginnings of my troubles, but
I didn’t realize. I was too young.
There were the girls that pulled my hair
During my slumber party.
There were the children I tried to play with
That would not play with me.
I never knew why. I found out later…

Ah, the 6th grade. When all the schools came together.
I met what would be my entire age peer group.
It was disastrous. How I was the best, but suffered.
I was the school queen, head angel in the school play,
And a cheerleader. Yet I was an outcast.
There was a girl that told me once
I didn’t deserve anything. She told me
My peers wanted to wrap a rope
Around my neck & sing,
“I Believe I Can Fly” by R. Kelly.
You can imagine the damage that did
To a twelve year old mind.

Then there was high school.
By that time I was evil to the ignorant.
There were over 50 bomb threats in the first two years.
That changed with September 11th.
Though some speculated I was the one
calling the bomb threats.
There was the interrogation of my religion.
To most, I was a devil worshiping voodoo witch.
My ideas of life made me evil.
I wasn’t attempting anything but surviving to graduate
And live beyond the school walls.

To whom it pertains and concerns;
Was my suffering entertaining?
Was my love to learn so hard to understand?
I changed my life after the 6th grade.
I tried to be prepared for the ignorance.
I tried to live in a way that would bother no one.
Yet you found a way to annoy me anyhow.
Did you enjoy making me feel the way you did?
An outsider. A creature, not a person,
deserving of nonsense and suicide?
None of you deserved to see me at my best.
I kept that for my closest friends.
Yet you plagued six years of my life with *******!
What say you now?

I thought of your demise.
I shared it with some.
Then it was all over.

I remember when my only concern was passing a test
Now I wonder if my cousin’s about to face death
I’m fifteen, studying till I graduate
Too bad I might die for school shooters are common place
My cousin’s younger than me
But I doubt killers care about that.
If they **** another will they let him be?
Do I have to wait for that?
I don’t care what the 2nd amendment means,
I just don’t want my cousin to die before he’s a teen.

Page one, Page two
same stuff, none new
Black White, White Black
andthenasounddifferentfromthelowbuzzormaybehumoftheaircondi­tioning
Turnhead Turnhead
shoesshoesshoes go clopclopclop boinkboinkpass--
Turn ‘Round, Face Front
Charm Me, Sit Still

Page four, Page five
none new, dead drive
Eight times Six makes
andthenabreezeblowstreesinanalmostmagicalyetinsidesilentway­
Dazeout Dazeout
swayswaysway light glitglitglit shimshmerdrows--
Turn ‘Round, Face Front
Charm Me, Sit Still

Read on, Till nine
dead drive, ley-line
What’s Greece, Rome’s what
andTHENasoundofGLORIOUSMAGNIFICENTifthatisevenaword
Ringring­ Ringring
Screamscreamscream feet bowmbowmbowm cush’seats

(Take a deep breath in, then exhale… smooth… steady)

At the sound of the bell
rush the lunchroom
where melting hot cookies
make a sweet perfume.
Some kids have brown bags
names scribbled in pen,
while other kids have nobody
to pack bags for them.

Those are the kids
sitting on the lawn.
Smoke stuck in their shirts
from cigarette smoking moms.
They have ***** hands,
purple under eyes,
holes in their shirts,
and shoes untied.
They are kids
that don’t have names.
So easily forgotten
and forgotten again.

I’m among them,
the lonely, lunch-less, wild,
torn clothes and tangled hair.
“Problem child!”

Then there are glass eyed kids
ritzy and rotten
with button up shirts
of egyptian cotton.
They garble their candy
they snicker and crunch,
while us kids on the grass
watch their giant mouths munch.

I am used to what happens
every September.
It’s my birthday
my parents never remember.
but my friends present me
a candle to light
and I make a wish
they hold my hands tight.

*I wish
that we could all look out
for one another.
I wish
that we could be
each others
sisters and brothers.
I wish
that we could not be alone
and live together.
I wish
that we could make
our own family
that lasts
Forever.