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Kole J McNeil Oct 2020
Hidden

I was sheltered all my life.
But then I went to school
I made friends who stabbed me in the back
I learned what pain was
I learned what it was to be bullied
I learned what it was to hide
I learned that when they walk by to sink into the shadows

1st grade
Laughing and joking
Playing and carefree
Friends and playdates
Sleepovers and games

2nd grade
Sitting in silence
Looking at the front board
Some friends who ignored me
Lonely and anxious

3rd grade
Hurt and alone
I don’t even remember
3rd grade was lost in my mind
No friends
And failing hard

4th grade
Alone
Empty
Cold
Feeling wrong
No real friends

5th grade
Trying to fit in
Bullied
Hiding in the bathroom
Crying at recess


6th grade
Fell in love
She hated me
Was bullied more for liking someone that was not who I should like
Hid my feelings
Hid in the shadows
Alone

7th grade
A new friend
Happier
Still bullied
Still sad
Not feeling right in my body

8th grade
Cut my hair
Came out to family
Got a girlfriend
Had two amazing friends
But I was cut
I was broken

Hide in the shadows
Don’t let them see you
Don’t wear short sleeves
Pick up that pice of glass
Burry the blade in my arm
Hurry to the emergency room
Put on suicide watch

Three months later
Eat a peanut that you know your allergic to
Rushed to the emergency room again
Put on an IV for 3 days
Let out
Feeling numb
Cuts slowly grow deeper and deeper

Two months later
Not at school
Won’t answer phone
Friends worried
Still feeling empty

Goes to school
Gets put on watch from resource officer
Feels alone
Can’t breath
Panic attacks in P.E.
Catches feelings for your best friend

School gets canceled due to COVID
Fails all classes 4th quarter
Falls into deep depression
Has mantle break downs
Panic attacks daily
Family downgrades feelings

Summer of 8th grade going into highschool
Starts drinking a lot
Makes it 3 months clean
Not a day clean in August
Cuts get slowly worse, more, and deeper
Breaks up with boyfriend
School starts
Becomes your best friends boyfriend
Comes to school high or drunk
Scares girlfriend

Stressed out and alone
Confused

Waiting to see what happens the rest of the year
Amanda Kay Burke Mar 2018
Fill the hollow crevice of my existence
With light, show me a warmer way
Stop numbness from taking over
I am slipping further0 into dismay.

Down the senseless pit of despair
My direction is out of control
Darkness paralyzes my mind
Strangling thoughts that crawl and roll

Constricting my body until I give up
I kick the air but cannot land a blow
The empty space will never stop resisting
The sound of my own scream has become my foe.

The endless void swallows my voice
Here the tears I cry fall forever
The lies I have told mean nothing now
I knew my will was always meant to sever.

Faced with nothingness all around
This is my life; a ******* hole
It's slowly shoving me outwards
Little by little, pain taking over my soul.

Chaos has reality gripped
In a tight but unsure grasp
Confusing the mass of color
And motion contained in its clasp

Bullied by the tidal wave of isolation
Head above water though it is strong
Giving up the ability to move
Surviving by the current floating me along.

My consciousness is traveling lethargically
I no longer feel my torso or limbs
Attempt to wiggle a finger but it won't budge
It takes all my strength to speak and part dry lips.

This is where existence ceases
Where time's beginning meets its end
An unending loop of monotonous emotions displayed
A breif instant in which Eternity life does suspend
This started as how I felt when I was crippled by heartache and doubt but switched lanes kinda. It's random I suppose. But it sounds pretty.
Louisa Coller Jan 2015
She walked around in a perfect dress, the beautiful angel we wanted.
Look at little miss innocent stroll around, what if I told you she’s not as innocent as she sounds.
Everyday, she hangs up her bag, and goes up to him and laughs.
He sits there alone, hanging his head down, crying to himself.
She stands there, in front of him, his face in her shadowed self.
He was bullied, everyday by the girl they proclaimed to be an angel,
he was crying, and wanted to get away, and wrote in the dirt,
“somebody **** me”.
She went to school, in her dress, and saw a hand gesture,
she showed her friends, they all giggled too, some reason the boy liked her too.
He wanted to show her, his affection and prove his love indeed.
He went to her, with a big little grin, and let out the words.
She laughed in his face, giggling away, it was him, she found it,
beyond hilarious, everything this boy said, as if he was a joke.
Somebody **** me, somebody **** me,
droning on in this boy’s mind, somebody, out there, punch me down,
pull me down, deeper into the ground.

She walked around in the ***** clothes, crying away, to the love songs,
she looked at her phone, another message, “Go die *****,”.
She saw why she shouldn't of rejected him, she was the bully,
and now she is the one in the pressured world, she goes to him,
in her thoughts, and apologizes for the lies she once told.
I now wish, if I knew him now, I would cry and apologize.
the truth of the past with my thoughts


i remember when i was getting drunk with beer

and my mate lyle was saying my beard doesn’t suit me

but what he really meant was drinking beer doesn’t suit me

because i get too drunk

so he bullied me all the way to the train

he did mean that beer doesn’t look good on me

but he said my beard doesn’t suit me cause he ain’t my daddy

then a man in melbourne said just because you have a beard doesn’t make you a man

but he meant just because you drink beer doesn’t make you a man

young dudes used to call me woosey but they wanted me to stand up to them

so i could get bullied all my life, well, i don’t want to get bullied because only school kids bully

you see i stopped drinking beer but i kept my beard because a beard helps me be a sophisticated writer and artist

and i look good at the poetry slam with a beard, yeah lyle was right, beer isn’t the right drink for me

i prefer cocacola, i know it rots your teeth but it tastes ****** great, dude

beer isn’t a good look for me

my beard suits me down to the ground

just because you drink beer doesn’t make you a man, i could be a cool person who drinks coke, i love my beard

beard = the bushy thing on my chin, it suits me to a tee
Erenn Sep 2014
How did I get here?
Wait, I can't see
Anyone there? Hello?
Wait, I can't move!
What happened!?
All I wanted was to play basketball
How did it end up like this?

Life is like a box
You're inside
Concealed from light
You learn to live in the darkness
The sounds that your heard
Gave you light
Light of hope that precedes truth
Acceptance of change is a struggle
You have to learn again

But I didn't falter

It all happened in a flash
I didn't know my condition could lead to this
Darkness within with no light to breath
I cried infinitely hoping I could see again
But there's still no light

Only in dreams were my paradise
Faces of mom & dad
My siblings being bullied by me as always
Playing lead guitar on stage in front of thousands
Andy singing:
"We follow the morning star
A light where darkness trailed
The passion left unholy
Now you find yourself!"


Music helps me breathe
The tune flowing through my veins
Like blood streaming to my heart
Giving me light
Pumping everytime
Reminding me, there's still hope

I don't know how long I can live with the darkness
Not being able to move
Reliance to my parents who never gave up on me
A burden i see myself to those I hold dear
But they keep telling me
"We will never give up on you!"

And so,
I tell myself

*I will live life to the fullest
Even in this world of darkness
I will take flight
I will pull through
I will try my best to open this box
Until I see the light
This is dedicated to my new friend on HP, Jinxx:)
He's a fighter. He was diagnosed with a condition that cause him to be paralyzed from the waist down and blindness.
Despite this mishap, he still continues to be active on HP.
I read his works. And immediately i thought,
"I have to write about him!"
All those who are reading this. Please pray for him in hopes that he will recover soon! Repost or like to show him that we care. And go check out his account, he writes brilliantly:)
We are always with you Jinxx!
http://hellopoetry.com/JinxxedForLife/
Meghan Nguyen Sep 2013
Glance at the bullied survivor with no hair left at all,
Look twice and you'll notice
She's still standing tall.

Watch the former gang leader, walking submissively,
Look twice and see the trail of tears,
As he searches for the winding road to recovery.

Observe the old man scrawl a name in the snow,
Look twice and see a father,
Mourning his murdered daughter buried down below.

Admire the woman you love for sure,
Look twice and realize that,
Due to her past abuse, she's still insecure.

Witness the beating of a man done in vain,
Beneath his unruly hair and dark eyes, look twice-
Don't you see pain?

I recognized the quiet woman, generous to the core.
I looked twice and saw my mother,
Still tortured by memories of the Vietnam War.

Dismiss the endless news reports of crime and abuse,
Look twice and understand,
Violence starts with the power to choose.

Awaken and see the world through new eyes,
Look twice at society and find out,
You've been telling yourself lies.

See the disabled, the victims, those who made the wrong choices,
Look twice and listen,
Now can you hear their agonized voices?

I realized the world was never the cordial society I'd dreamt it to be.
I looked twice and found out,
Stopping violence begins with me.
I submitted this poem for the Do the Write Thing Texas Contest two years ago.
Nick Moser Feb 2014
The saying is "Always live your life in the fast lane."
But how can I do that if my life has faded like smoke through a keyhole?
It is blank like a notepad on a little girl's desk.
The girl who is constantly bullied for the Bell's Palsy that consumes her face.
The notepad that sits on her desk that she has ripped pages upon pages upon pages out of.
Pages that read words that are thrown at her everyday.
****, *****, *****, loser.
Pages that have drawings of her and that one guy she longs for, but that one guy longs for her disappearance.
My life is like that blank note pad.
The only thing it retains is it's last message telling the world "Goodbye."
I always admired that girl.
zebra Nov 2017
i was looking at an old and tattered black and white photo of my grandfather
a man i never knew and wondered about

his existence
like a horizon of dissolution
his soul enshrined in my own
and like him and all creatures
ultimately i remain defenseless
against realities magnitude

while my father loved me as a child
he grew unkind over the years
and we where set bitterly against one another other
his tyranny and my disobedience

as i gathered strategies craft
by machinery of thought
and festering gall
he, the bully
got bullied back
by me and old age
as we in tandem set fire
to his sadistic golden age of disillusionment

and here we are now the living and the dead
still locked in a grudge
a recurring spirit of revenge
in a valley of tears
before i myself join the ephemeral legions
in a pile of stones and ashed corpses

are we not
a procession of long struggles and short pleasures
a history of terrors and creatureness
stooges bound by the wheel creation
crucified by desire
and the apathy of obliterations aftermath
an archeology of death
ruin upon ruins

has God
sinned against man
or bestowed his grace
mystified
perfect and beautiful
beyond measure
yet to be discovered
in an alternate reality?
Day after day I wake up with a smile on my face.
I perform the same morning routine, it will never change.
Brush my teeth, wash my face then put on the best make-up I know of.
The most natural one of them all, that hides all thats inside.

Day after day I greet my friends with a smile, give them a hug, then walk along by.
Day after day I pretend that I'm happy, I never ever cry cause that is too sappy.
I may look like I'm this confident, brave girl. I look like the happiest girl in the world.
Little do you know that I'm dying inside. The clock keeps on ticking, time's floating by.

I am losing sight of my purpose to live. I wish I could go back to being a kid.
When I didn't have these disturbing thoughts, though as a kid I was bullied a lot.
Name calling was a frequent occurrence for me. I'd hear it from my friends and my family.
My childhood wasn't great, but I did survive. If only I could go back in time.
Go back to the time when I was first bullied. I'd do something different so no one could hurt me.
If I changed the past it would change the future too, or at least I hope that is what it would do.
But that cannot happen, it's a wasted dream. I can never again but truly happy.

Day after day I act so happy. I never reveal my true feelings to anybody.
I make people smile, I make others laugh. I help others see their beauty when they need some help.
I shall do what I can while I'm still around. I don't want others walking around with frowns.
Day after day I help the ones I love, though I struggle to help myself.

There will be a time when I am no longer here. When I give up and just live in fear.
Fear of being loved, the fear of getting hurt. The fear of being treated like dirt.
When I can no longer fight these evil thoughts, the evil thoughts I think a lot.
When I can't hide my hurt behind a smile, when others can see I am dying inside.

Days are so long, I can barely survive. It's now a struggle to put on a smile.
I no longer have the same routine, I now just get out of bed and then leave.
I don't want to try, I'll be gone soon. No point of wasting time to look good for school.

Day after day I just get up and leave. I don't say good morning to anybody.
I can't put on a smile, I can't even laugh. I can't walk the halls without wanting to collapse.
I have lost the battle I've been fighting for years. My happiness has now turned into tears.
An endless river of tears flow from my eyes. I can't control them, they come all the time.
I have given up, I have lost the fight. I know that I am going down.

There is no more day after day, the battle was won.
I have completely given up, I've sunken, I've drowned.
This poem does not completely relate to me for the record. Just for a heads up.
Polar Feb 2016
Goblin Market
by Christina Rossetti

Morning and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
"Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpecked cherries,
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crab-apples, dewberries,
Pine-apples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries; -
All ripe together
In summer weather, -
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come buy:
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye;
Come buy, come buy."

Evening by evening
Among the brookside rushes,
Laura bowed her head to hear,
Lizzie veiled her blushes:
Crouching close together
In the cooling weather,
With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
With tingling cheeks and finger-tips.
"Lie close," Laura said,
Pricking up her golden head:
"We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?"
"Come buy," call the goblins
Hobbling down the glen.
"Oh," cried Lizzie, "Laura, Laura,
You should not peep at goblin men."
Lizzie covered up her eyes,
Covered close lest they should look;
Laura reared her glossy head,
And whispered like the restless brook:
"Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,
Down the glen ***** little men.
One hauls a basket,
One bears a plate,
One lugs a golden dish
Of many pounds' weight.
How fair the vine must grow
Whose grapes are so luscious;
How warm the wind must blow
Through those fruit bushes."
"No," said Lizzie: "No, no, no;
Their offers should not charm us,
Their evil gifts would harm us.'
She ****** a dimpled finger
In each ear, shut eyes and ran:
Curious Laura chose to linger
Wondering at each merchant man.
One had a cat's face,
One whisked a tail,
One tramped at a rat's pace,
One crawled like a snail,
One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry,
One like a ratel tumbled hurry scurry.
She heard a voice like voice of doves
Cooing all together:
They sounded kind and full of loves
In the pleasant weather.

Laura stretched her gleaming neck
Like a rush-imbedded swan,
Like a lily from the beck,
Like a moonlit poplar branch,
Like a vessel at the launch
When its last restraint is gone.

Backwards up the mossy glen
Turned and trooped the goblin men,
With their shrill repeated cry,
'Come buy, come buy.'
When they reached where Laura was
They stood stock still upon the moss,
Leering at each other,
Brother with queer brother;
Signalling each other,
Brother with sly brother.
One set his basket down,
One reared his plate;
One began to weave a crown
Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown
(Men sell not such in any town);
One heaved the golden weight
Of dish and fruit to offer her:
"Come buy, come buy," was still their cry.
Laura stared but did not stir,
Longed but had no money.
The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste
In tones as smooth as honey,
The cat-faced purr'd,
The rat-paced spoke a word
Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;
One parrot-voiced and jolly
Cried "Pretty Goblin" still for "Pretty Polly";
One whistled like a bird.

But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:
"Good folk, I have no coin;
To take were to purloin:
I have no copper in my purse,
I have no silver either,
And all my gold is on the furze
That shakes in windy weather
Above the rusty heather."
"You have much gold upon your head,"
They answered all together:
"Buy from us with a golden curl."
She clipped a precious golden lock,
She dropped a tear more rare than pearl,
Then ****** their fruit globes fair or red.
Sweeter than honey from the rock,
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,
Clearer than water flowed that juice;
She never tasted such before,
How should it cloy with length of use?
She ****** and ****** and ****** the more
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore;
She ****** until her lips were sore;
Then flung the emptied rinds away
But gathered up one kernel stone,
And knew not was it night or day
As she turned home alone.

Lizzie met her at the gate
Full of wise upbraidings:
'Dear, you should not stay so late,
Twilight is not good for maidens;
Should not loiter in the glen
In the haunts of goblin men.
Do you not remember Jeanie,
How she met them in the moonlight,
Took their gifts both choice and many,
Ate their fruits and wore their flowers
Plucked from bowers
Where summer ripens at all hours?
But ever in the moonlight
She pined and pined away;
Sought them by night and day,
Found them no more, but dwindled and grew gray;
Then fell with the first snow,
While to this day no grass will grow
Where she lies low:
I planted daisies there a year ago
That never blow.
You should not loiter so."
"Nay, hush," said Laura:
"Nay, hush, my sister:
I ate and ate my fill,
Yet my mouth waters still:
Tomorrow night I will
Buy more;' and kissed her:
"Have done with sorrow;
I'll bring you plums tomorrow
Fresh on their mother twigs,
Cherries worth getting;
You cannot think what figs
My teeth have met in,
What melons icy-cold
Piled on a dish of gold
Too huge for me to hold,
What peaches with a velvet nap,
Pellucid grapes without one seed:
Odorous indeed must be the mead
Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink
With lilies at the brink,
And sugar-sweet their sap."

Golden head by golden head,
Like two pigeons in one nest
Folded in each other's wings,
They lay down in their curtained bed:
Like two blossoms on one stem,
Like two flakes of new-fall'n snow,
Like two wands of ivory
Tipped with gold for awful kings.
Moon and stars gazed in at them,
Wind sang to them lullaby,
Lumbering owls forebore to fly,
Not a bat flapped to and fro
Round their rest:
Cheek to cheek and breast to breast
Locked together in one rest.

Early in the morning
When the first **** crowed his warning,
Neat like bees, as sweet and busy,
Laura rose with Lizzie:
Fetched in honey, milked the cows,
Aired and set to rights the house,
Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat,
Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,
Next churned butter, whipped up cream,
Fed their poultry, sat and sewed;
Talked as modest maidens should:
Lizzie with an open heart,
Laura in an absent dream,
One content, one sick in part;
One warbling for the mere bright day's delight,
One longing for the night.

At length slow evening came:
They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;
Lizzie most placid in her look,
Laura most like a leaping flame.
They drew the gurgling water from its deep.
Lizzie plucked purple and rich golden flags,
Then turning homeward said: "The sunset flushes
Those furthest loftiest crags;
Come, Laura, not another maiden lags.
No wilful squirrel wags,
The beasts and birds are fast asleep.'
But Laura loitered still among the rushes,
And said the bank was steep.

And said the hour was early still,
The dew not fall'n, the wind not chill;
Listening ever, but not catching
The customary cry,
"Come buy, come buy,"
With its iterated jingle
Of sugar-baited words:
Not for all her watching
Once discerning even one goblin
Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling -
Let alone the herds
That used to ***** along the glen,
In groups or single,
Of brisk fruit-merchant men.

Till Lizzie urged, "O Laura, come;
I hear the fruit-call, but I dare not look:
You should not loiter longer at this brook:
Come with me home.
The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,
Each glow-worm winks her spark,
Let us get home before the night grows dark:
For clouds may gather
Though this is summer weather,
Put out the lights and drench us through;
Then if we lost our way what should we do?"

Laura turned cold as stone
To find her sister heard that cry alone,
That goblin cry,
"Come buy our fruits, come buy."
Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?
Must she no more such succous pasture find,
Gone deaf and blind?
Her tree of life drooped from the root:
She said not one word in her heart's sore ache:
But peering thro' the dimness, nought discerning,
Trudged home, her pitcher dripping all the way;
So crept to bed, and lay
Silent till Lizzie slept;
Then sat up in a passionate yearning,
And gnashed her teeth for baulked desire, and wept
As if her heart would break.

Day after day, night after night,
Laura kept watch in vain
In sullen silence of exceeding pain.
She never caught again the goblin cry,
"Come buy, come buy"; -
She never spied the goblin men
Hawking their fruits along the glen:
But when the noon waxed bright
Her hair grew thin and gray;
She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn
To swift decay and burn
Her fire away.

One day remembering her kernel-stone
She set it by a wall that faced the south;
Dewed it with tears, hoped for a root,
Watched for a waxing shoot,
But there came none.
It never saw the sun,
It never felt the trickling moisture run:
While with sunk eyes and faded mouth
She dreamed of melons, as a traveller sees
False waves in desert drouth
With shade of leaf-crowned trees,
And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.

She no more swept the house,
Tended the fowls or cows,
Fetched honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,
Brought water from the brook:
But sat down listless in the chimney-nook
And would not eat.

Tender Lizzie could not bear
To watch her sister's cankerous care,
Yet not to share.
She night and morning
Caught the goblins' cry:
"Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:" -
Beside the brook, along the glen,
She heard the ***** of goblin men,
The voice and stir
Poor Laura could not hear;
Longed to buy fruit to comfort her,
But feared to pay too dear.
She thought of Jeanie in her grave,
Who should have been a bride;
But who for joys brides hope to have
Fell sick and died
In her gay prime,
In earliest winter time,
With the first glazing rime,
With the first snow-fall of crisp winter time.

Till Laura dwindling
Seemed knocking at Death's door.
Then Lizzie weighed no more
Better and worse;
But put a silver penny in her purse,
Kissed Laura, crossed the heath with clumps of furze
At twilight, halted by the brook:
And for the first time in her life
Began to listen and look.

Laughed every goblin
When they spied her peeping:
Came towards her hobbling,
Flying, running, leaping,
Puffing and blowing,
Chuckling, clapping, crowing,
Clucking and gobbling,
Mopping and mowing,
Full of airs and graces,
Pulling wry faces,
Demure grimaces,
Cat-like and rat-like,
Ratel- and wombat-like,
Snail-paced in a hurry,
Parrot-voiced and whistler,
Helter-skelter, hurry skurry,
Chattering like magpies,
Fluttering like pigeons,
Gliding like fishes, -
Hugged her and kissed her:
Squeezed and caressed her:
Stretched up their dishes,
Panniers, and plates:
"Look at our apples
Russet and dun,
Bob at our cherries,
Bite at our peaches,
Citrons and dates,
Grapes for the asking,
Pears red with basking
Out in the sun,
Plums on their twigs;
Pluck them and **** them,
Pomegranates, figs." -

"Good folk," said Lizzie,
Mindful of Jeanie:
"Give me much and many:" -
Held out her apron,
Tossed them her penny.
"Nay, take a seat with us,
Honour and eat with us,"
They answered grinning:
"Our feast is but beginning.
Night yet is early,
Warm and dew-pearly,
Wakeful and starry:
Such fruits as these
No man can carry;
Half their bloom would fly,
Half their dew would dry,
Half their flavour would pass by.
Sit down and feast with us,
Be welcome guest with us,
Cheer you and rest with us." -
"Thank you," said Lizzie: "But one waits
At home alone for me:
So without further parleying,
If you will not sell me any
Of your fruits though much and many,
Give me back my silver penny
I tossed you for a fee." -
They began to scratch their pates,
No longer wagging, purring,
But visibly demurring,
Grunting and snarling.
One called her proud,
Cross-grained, uncivil;
Their tones waxed loud,
Their looks were evil.
Lashing their tails
They trod and hustled her,
Elbowed and jostled her,
Clawed with their nails,
Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,
Tore her gown and soiled her stocking,
Twitched her hair out by the roots,
Stamped upon her tender feet,
Held her hands and squeezed their fruits
Against her mouth to make her eat.

White and golden Lizzie stood,
Like a lily in a flood, -
Like a rock of blue-veined stone
Lashed by tides obstreperously, -
Like a beacon left alone
In a hoary roaring sea,
Sending up a golden fire, -
Like a fruit-crowned orange-tree
White with blossoms honey-sweet
Sore beset by wasp and bee, -
Like a royal ****** town
Topped with gilded dome and spire
Close beleaguered by a fleet
Mad to tug her standard down.

One may lead a horse to water,
Twenty cannot make him drink.
Though the goblins cuffed and caught her,
Coaxed and fought her,
Bullied and besought her,
Scratched her, pinched her black as ink,
Kicked and knocked her,
Mauled and mocked her,
Lizzie uttered not a word;
Would not open lip from lip
Lest they should cram a mouthful in:
But laughed in heart to feel the drip
Of juice that syruped all her face,
And lodged in dimples of her chin,
And streaked her neck which quaked like curd.
At last the evil people,
Worn out by her resistance,
Flung back her penny, kicked their fruit
Along whichever road they took,
Not leaving root or stone or shoot;
Some writhed into the ground,
Some dived into the brook
With ring and ripple,
Some scudded on the gale without a sound,
Some vanished in the distance.

In a smart, ache, tingle,
Lizzie went her way;
Knew not was it night or day;
Sprang up the bank, tore thro' the furze,
Threaded copse and ******,
And heard her penny jingle
Bouncing in her purse, -
Its bounce was music to her ear.
She ran and ran
As if she feared some goblin man
Dogged her with gibe or curse
Or something worse:
But not one goblin skurried after,
Nor was she pricked by fear;
The kind heart made her windy-paced
That urged her home quite out of breath with haste
And inward laughter.

She cried, "Laura," up the garden.
"Did you miss me?
Come and kiss me.
Never mind my bruises,
Hug me, kiss me, **** my juices
Squeezed from goblin fruits for you,
Goblin pulp and goblin dew.
Eat me, drink me, love me;
Laura, make much of me;
For your sake I have braved the glen
And had to do with goblin merchant men."

Laura started from her chair,
Flung her arms up in the air,
Clutched her hair:
"Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted
For my sake the fruit forbidden?
Must your light like mine be hidden,
Your young life like mine be wasted,
Undone in mine undoing,
And ruined in my ruin,
Thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden?" -
She clung about her sister,
Kissed and kissed and kissed her:
Tears once again
Refreshed her shrunken eyes,
Dropping like rain
After long sultry drouth;
Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,
She kissed and kissed her with a hungry mouth.

Her lips began to scorch,
That juice was wormwood to her tongue,
She loathed the feast:
Writhing as one possessed she leaped and sung,
Rent all her robe, and wrung
Her hands in lamentable haste,
And beat her breast.
Her locks streamed like the torch
Borne by a racer at full speed,
Or like the mane of horses in their flight,
Or like an eagle when she stems the light
Straight toward the sun,
Or like a caged thing freed,
Or like a flying flag when armies run.

Swift fire spread through her veins,
knocked at her heart
Met the fire smouldering there
And overbore its lesser flame;
She gorged on bitterness without a name:
Ah! fool, to choose such part
Of soul-consuming care!
Sense failed in the mortal strife:
Like the watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake shatters down,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Like a wind-uprooted tree
Spun about,
Like a foam-topped waterspout
Cast down headlong in the sea,
She fell at last;
Pleasure past and anguish past,
Is it death or is it life?

Life out of death.
That night long Lizzie watched by her,
Counted her pulse's flagging stir,
Felt for her breath,
Held water to her lips, and cooled her face
ok it's long but in my opinion it will always be one of the most awesome poems ever!
Silence Screamz Sep 2014
I remember the first day,  I walked into class,
At seven years old saying "This will be a blast!"

The classroom was full, the bell did ring
Lessons being taught, so it begins

Recess starts, the teams are split
Standing alone, the last one picked

Slowly it starts, as laughter and fun
but deep inside, I am seeing no sun

The nicknames had started, not laughing inside
but what did I do, starting to cry

Never belonging or being accepted
being myself, I felt dissected

From 2nd to 3rd and up into 8th grade
the bullies got worse, fearing into fade

Freshman to Senior, I thought I was stronger
Hitting my point, it started to boil over

It was one little word that threw me over the edge
Couldn't take it no more, all that was said

I stood up to the bully, on that great day,
all was released, feeling no shame

But it doesn't stop there, the torment goes on
At night, I dont sleep, I just sing a song

That song never ends, forever on that round
it never skips a beat, listen to the sound

Decades goes on, never forgetting the names
What has happened to me? Am I going insane?

These are the first names that tortured my young soul
Always in my mind, but never letting go

So Danny, Robert, Terry and Andy
You are not very special or very well dandy!

Oh Michael and Chuck and Bill, I remember
stand up to call, hell is your number

Chris, Steven, and even Brad
Life's but a mystery,  so why are you so sad

I tried to forgive you deep in my heart
Why did you bully me? TEARING MY WORLD APART!!
This one is dedicated to every victim of bullying around the world. Its not right. Together we are strong. Please share as much as possible as my gift to those without a voice!
Olivia-Grace Jun 2016
Hi, I'm a ****.
I'm the girl who is only seen as a ****** slave.
I'm just digging my own grave.
Hi, I'm a ****.
Having *** seems to have marked me.
"****, let her be."
Hi, I'm a ****.
I never close my legs.
Drinking straight from kegs.
Hi, I'm a ****.
Today's world is so messed up that we are stuck with a meaningless name.
It's a game.
Hi, I'm a ****.
I've gotten more men then I can handle.
Caught up in a scandle.
Hi, I'm a ****.
Broken and threatened, bullied online.
****, she is so fine.
Hi, I'm a ****.
But I'm also a writer too.
An artist, a poet, but you never knew.
Hi, I'm a ****.
Where today in this world names can translate into actions.
And girls can get rapped.
And you can't escape.
Because fate is fate.
And I should not wear that because it's cut to low.
She's such a ***.
She should just go.
Hi, I'm a ****.
And it's a title that never dies.
Breaking ties.
Because.
Hi, I'm a ****.
And I can never keep a guy.
No matter how hard I try.
And it's all a lie.
But, Hi...
I'm a *****.
Andrew Parker Feb 2014
Cyber Bullying Poem
2/6/2014

Let's talk about cyber bullying.
I wonder if you instantly thought,
"Oh gosh this is gonna be intense."
Well maybe, maybe not.

Some forms of bullying aren't intended to be intense.

Sometimes bullying comes from the smallest things you can do to someone.
Sometimes bullying just takes a minute to type and press send.
Sometimes bullying just takes another minute to close your web browser.
Sometimes bullying just takes a third minute to walk away fine.

Bullying is possible in just three minutes:
send a comment to anyone anywhere in the world
ruin their day.
destroy their confidence
personally insult someone you don't know personally
influence their minute, hour, day, week, month,
life, suicide.

But this poem isn't about suicide,
it isn't about life or death.
It is about those small things you say to someone on the internet,
without ever realizing
you are a cyber-bully.

This poem is about the time I met an internet troll.
Someone who says things in chat forums to elicit an elevated response.
I was in middle school, one of three Jewish kids.
I posted on a forum about video games,
and for some reason
another middle schooler on the same forum as me,
somewhere unknown in the world,
posted off topic about how the Holocaust was great for population control.
*******.

This poem is about the messages you get on your dating profile,
that just say "hello" or "hi."
Because you took the time to fill out and divulge personal information,
and the best they could come up with was a measly greeting?
26 letters, 10 numbers, and 46 other keys at your disposal,
with unlimited time
no pressure at all,
but you'll use a hell of a lot more keys when you retaliate to my angry response.
*******.

This poem is about the debates you get into on FB.
someone posts a provocative status about cultural misappropriation
or about how English should be the national language,
and you respond unable to resist,
trying to keep it professional and scholarly,
citing sources doing your thing,
until they make a personal insult,
unrelated to the debate topic,
maybe about your political orientation or religious beliefs.
*******.

This poem is about the person who you were supposed to go on a date with,
but they told you about how they once got upset at their ex,
and posted their photos on Craigslist.
******* and no thank you!

This poem is about the poems that I've posted on my blog,
that someone out there thinks are open to public criticism,
as all art should be they said.
Maybe if I was published and making money, sure?
Maybe if I actually thought your opinion was valuable?
Or maybe, just maybe, you could be a cyber bully.
Spewing your **** like the internet is your personal toilet seat.
*******.

This poem is about the minutiae,
the minutes in which someone can damage you,
because your screen on your computer has no filter,
it won't protect you from the cyber bullies,
who say small comments that make a big impact.

No happy inspirational ending,
other than that I hope they read this poem on the internet,
and maybe feel a little bullied themselves.
Nigdaw Aug 2021
we hid here
among the words we write
expressing ourselves
anonymously
using synonyms
similes adjectives
verbs nouns
to voice our fragility
our vulnerability
and self-doubt
implanted by years
of subjugation
intimidation
manipulation
bullied
into self-loathing
self-harm
even suicidal thoughts
well here we are
come find us
I challenge you to a duel
your intellect
against mine
I was new to the school
I had no friends
Fear wrenching my gut
And so I smiled

I met some people
They turned me away
Bullied behind the back
And so I smiled

Finally I made true friends
And got asked out
But of course it never did last
And so I smiled

Then the friendship all went wrong
Promises broken, loved ones lost
Blood was shed, turning hands red
And so I smiled

Horror, black clothing
So much more
Crying and dying all inside
And so I smiled

A grandfather left
Passed away
No longer shall we play
And so I smiled

Glaring eyes crossed
Hatred shown in the hall
Between friends turned enemies
And so I smiled

True friends turned sisters
Moved away
Leaving me alone
And so I smiled

Fear wrenched me again
As I tried to mend
Broken friendships from childhood
And so I smiled

Now I have met some girls
Not true friends but close
A boy I like is more than friends
And so I smiled

But a smile no longer means happiness
Now it's simply a brave face.
So how do I reveal to the world
That I am somewhat happy?
ThatBrokenOne Dec 2018
As a boy I said to my mom,
"Mom I don’t want to life anymore."
As a boy I was tired of my life,
I just wanted to get out.

As a boy I was bullied,
School was no fun at all.
As a boy I used to have one friend,
He was my only friend.

As a boy my life ******,
So bad I didn’t want to live anymore.
As a boy I grew older,
I became a teenager.

As a teenager I was bullied,
But I could handle it.
As a teenager I had this friend,
He was my only and oldest friend.

As a teenager I found some new friends,
And lost my old one.
As a teenager I fell in love,
But she had to go into some treatment.


As a teenager I fell in love again,
Just to see her dating someone else.
As a teenager I wanted to die again,
I felt miserable even though my life was not that bad at all.

As a teenager I grew older,
And became a student.
As a student I hated my life,
I had to stop studying due to too many fails.

As a student I kept going,
I applied to a new study.
As a student I met this awesome girl,
She did the same study.

As a student I was happy for once,
We started spending time together.
As a student I found love,
It was with that awesome girl.

As a student I had the happiest moment of my life,
She and I got together.
As a student I stopped studying,
The study didn't have my interest after all.

As an adult I was happy,
I had a girlfriend.
As an adult I found work to do,
I was working until I started studying again.


As a student I was happy,
I found the right study and had a girlfriend.
As a student I did something bad,
Is ******* up life once again.

As a student I had the saddest moment of my life,
My girlfriend broke up with me.
As a student I wanted to die,
I hated my life.

As a student I try to keep going,
But I preform bad at my study.
As a student I don’t know how long I can last,
Before I **** myself.

As a person,
I don’t want to live anymore.
As a person,
I hate my life.
one song that I find very relatable, it has me every time I lissen to it. I like the cover from Faith Marie more than the original song, so that is why I added that link.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FU5ifmugneM
R Mar 2013
"It gets better"
Constant mutterings of the same old saying
"I offer my condolences"
These unsympathetic sympathies are driving me insane

What's that you say? You've walked in my shoes?
You've shared the same experiences as I?
You know exactly what I'm going through?
Ha. That's a lie.

Are you at a standstill in your life right now,
with nowhere to turn, nowhere to go?
Have you lost all faith in humanity?
Are you inwardly dying, do you know?

No.
See, you really don't know what it's like to be me
You couldn't possibly have walked in my shoes
if I'm wearing them on my own two feet

And let me tell you something.
My feet...
Stink.

Don't ask me why,
because frankly I don't know
But I was dealt some ****** shoes
a long, long time ago

They felt too tight,
it wasn't right
Although, what's the use
if the shoes are loose?

Running fast, fast, fast
as fast as I could
Without getting anywhere
it's a pain in the ***

And the scent of these shoes...
God, it was terrible.
Nothing could hide the stench of loneliness and *****
A fragrance so unbearable

But anyway, enough about my stinky feet
It was really just a bad analogy
Though I hope you weren't just about to eat
If so, I give you my deepest apology
Let's change the subject, shall we?

I am a victim.

I may not have been abused,
but take a look at the scars on my wrists
I may not have been bullied,
but then again, we ourselves are our own worst critics

Just because I have not been battered or bruised
by another human being
Just because I have not been shattered to pieces
by someone other than myself...
That does not make me any less broken.

I am a victim of my own thoughts.
I am a victim of depression.
I am a victim of self-harm.
I AM A VICTIM OF LIFE ITSELF.

"It gets better"
Oh come on!
This is no video game
This is no movie
This is real, this is life!
And trust me, it sure ain't 'groovy'

There are no Prince Charmings
No happily ever afters
This reality is quite alarming
It's not a time for laughter

These heartaches don't just go away
The misery and hurt is here to stay
I'm sick and tired of spending nights crying
and all these constant thoughts of dying

You say that everything will be okay
yet I can't look past the pain of today
Tomorrow never seems to shine a brighter light
so why even bother to continue the fight?

It won't get better.*

See, those are the words I should have said
And I know very well that honesty is the best policy
but hey, do you really think that I'm the only one being dishonest here?

Then again, I don't know you and you don't know me
And maybe you have the courage to tell the truth
but if someone were to tell me that "it gets better"
I'd put on my best poker face and say
"Thank you."
Alan W Jankowski Oct 2015
Two young brothers are left at home,
All by their lonesome selves,
The older one notices a new toy,
Sitting high up on a shelf.

He climbs up and brings on down,
What he believes is a toy gun,
He thinks about the games they’ll play,
Boy this sure will be fun.

He aims the ‘toy’ at his little brother,
And shoots him in the head,
But that gun was not a toy at all,
And soon the three-year-old is dead.

When a child dies,
All the stuffed animals cry,
Alone on a shelf,
They sit by themselves,
In a cold lonely room,
Like a final tomb.

Johnny’s tired of being bullied at school,
But every dog has its day,
Though all his classmates seem so mean,
Johnny will make sure they all pay.

The next day at school will be different,
From a knapsack he pulls out a gun,
Suddenly he starts shooting his classmates,
Shoots them in the back as they run.

Soon most of the class has been shot,
And their young bodies are lying there dead,
With one bullet left in the chamber,
Johnny puts the gun to his own head.

When a child dies,
All the angels cry,
The tears flowing down,
On the sad little town,
It’s a cold, cold rain,
But it won’t numb the pain.

For Jose this is the biggest day in his life,
It’s his gang initiation in the ‘hood,
He must seek out a rival gang member,
With a couple of shots he’ll be good.

Jose packs his piece and extra clips,
And his driver takes him to the spot,
He takes aim at his helpless victim,
And another is dead with just one shot.

But that one bullet it ricocheted,
You hear a young mother scream and cry,
As she realizes her young son is hit,
On a cold dark street he is left to die.

When a child dies,
The whole world cries,
All lives matter, big and small,
I ask you people, heed the call,
Please stop the hate, before it’s too late,
For the future of us all.

10-27-15.
Written for the upcoming book "World Healing, World Peace Poetry 2016" on Inner Child Press...
http://www.worldhealingworldpeacepoetry.com/
Trevor Gates Jul 2013
The Obsidian Theater XV.



Welcome to my nightmare
Welcome to my show
The audience awaits your praise
And your stage light glow

My, my, it’s been too long.

[Walks across stage; light follows. Curtains pulled]

Where have all of you been?

[Audience laughter]

Oh, forgive me, that’s not the right question
To ask

Where have we been?

That’s more fitting


Where


Sipping Champagne with Bing Crosby among undead poets
With a casket made for two
“Brother can you spare a dime?”
He said,
“Lift me from this tribal paradigm.”

And

For many days I wandered the wilderness in the threads of
My carnivalesque grandfather
Ripping and tearing in the clinging trees
Hands of branches
Groping and pulling the garments off my body

In the middle of the Serbian wilderness was The Manor
Draped in dead trees and blackened ice

The valet stood at the gate in prime condition
Waiting

But for who?

“Why, you sir.” He told me, guiding me through the entrance, to the front door.

And inside were wonders to be held by the
muster of my weakened eyes

Ladybug dancers tossing their legs up to *****-tonk fanfare
Swirling magicians pulling rabbits and naked men from the shadows

Allegorical usurpers coated in a filmy residue of
Herzog dreams
And
Lynch fantasies

Perpetuated by my longing
My lost soul
My parched thirst
My growling stomach
My throbbing manhood
My forgotten affliction
And severed diction

A man slivering into the skin of a woman
A Lady donning the cowl of a man

Skins shivering with afterglow effects

And dreams woven by old witches with intestinal thread

It was eloquent darkness in the belly of the manor
Fit for a King of Devilish glamor

Brothers of Grimm
And
Sisters of Mercy

Told from the pages

From the books

Of frozen Gods
And forgotten Titans

These are the happenings of a great story
Fiction or not
You may tell it
And believe what you will

It doesn’t matter as long as it is strongly retold

From the lips of another

The wandering bard
Or
The pub crawling drunkard
To
The enamored *****
And
Bookworm report
It needs
To be shared
To others
Even impaired
To celebrate
Gasp
Giggle
Scare
Love
Soothe
Disrupt

My impeccable, capable
Hands-down sensational
Tour de force
Troupe
A la mode


Cherries on top of whipped screams and drinks
Juggling heads and animals over coals of fire
Give them a show
Give them a feat
Give them something to remember
Give them something to crawl back to
Give them a performance that will beckon the applause
For years to come
Show your audience
And readers love
And
Sorrow
The likes of which
Cannot be equaled
Or even compared to
Lesser
Congregations
Of silly-billy pud muffins
And their
Street-smart guff

Let the institution of your mind become a corporal being
Teasing and pleasing those eager and waiting eyes
Staring up at you with
Wanting
Drooling
Wanting
Begging
Wanting
Affections

Don’t you want to see a show worth seeing?

[Audience cheers; laughs and applauds]

Watch a movie worth seeing?

Read a book worth reading?

How do you come by this?

Create what you’ve always wanted to see, read, watch and say.

Those performers
Once peasants and beggars

Stood up from the grime and ridicule of the trash and rose above the
Plateau
To conquer their hearts

Look and see!

Those people balancing and singing with fluffy dogs
Magicians and warlocks summoning spirits to dance among stars
Poets on stage reading mixed words to nodding peers
Directors blocking actors on stage with unparalleled enthusiasm
All these creatures of the ubiquitous night
Gather and produce
The whim of their lives

But many of these masters
These

Unknowing

Are

The bus boys cleaning up after your meal
The mother alone at home with the kids
The unsociable man on the park bench
The frigid girl in the corner of the classroom
The nervous boy wandering the circus
The stern librarian in Brooklyn
The blogger in the studio apartment
The hard working abroad student on a farm
The homeless man cradling a dying dog
The celebrity chasing photographer
The undergraduate tutor
The ignored substitute teacher
The bullied Muslim student
The underprivileged south side coach
The Turkish cab driver


More and more

These warrior poets and victims to racial slurs
Commonwealth bigotry
Ghetto endorsements
Faulty criticisms

From hosting countries

And sheltered, over-privileged, disillusioned

Politicians

Bureaucrats

Religious figures

Dogs of War

Angels of retribution

Demons of industry

Ghosts of the hours and days past
To sympathize and cry for the world
Thrown into invisible and subtle chaos
Like an ocean littered with the blades of
Broken glass
The sludge toxic waste mixed in molten lava over craters of dead bodies
Or
The sand dust covering the thousands of bodies in the earth

So



What teams won the World Series?
Which movie star dates who?
What’s the latest trending diet?
What new pop sensation has been manufactured?
What new insult can talk show hosts say?
Is there someone new to blame for all the bad things in the world?

What are the things the media has told you?
And
The things it hasn’t?

It’s a
Bitter sweet symphony

A
Crucible for the faceless grins
Pointing fingers everywhere but themselves


Let’s leave the worries to our kids
I’m sure they’ll figure it out.
Allow me to thank my esteemed colleagues: Meryl Streep’s skeleton, Freddie Mercury’s ghost, Doc Hammer, George C. Scott, Doctor Emmett Brown, Marty McFly, Easter Eggs, internet message board administrators, Robert Redford, Aviator sunglasses, Don Cheadle, The Coen Brothers, the Dukes of Hazzard, Billy *** Thorton, Hammerfall, Saxon, Klaxons, Lou Reed, Spike Jonze, Michael Gondry, Guts, Son Goku, Tinkerball ***** force, the Die Nasties, The Iron Maidens, Judas Priestess, The Runaways
And many more I simply don’t have time to mention.

Now Get out of my theater.
Grace Pickard Mar 2014
This is a poem for my little sister,
Sunday
Who carries emotional battle wounds
From a mother who left her for heroine.
Who hoards food because she's
Afraid
Bullied for being overweight
Light hearted and Jolly
Just to be judged by me
Rejected
By the time I understood I was
Too late
"You're really going to wea- let's go out!"
You needed love
But even I hadnt fully accepted you
Your baby blue eyes pooling became MY
Priority
I can't fix your mom abandoning you
Nor can I make up for the years you didn't know our father
I'll never be able to take back the cruel things I said
That weakened your knees and killed your temporary happiness
I should've been a good role model
But I hated that you became dad's little girl too
I was selfish and blind
Time is not reversible
But each day forward is an opportunity to make your life happier
I love you-
Words you should hear everyday
A twelve year old who never fails to inspire me
My Sunshine
Kewayne Wadley Jul 2018
Just because it's suggested doesn't make it right.
In the hands of teachers, other staff.
What other purpose could this directly serve.
To defend our institutions.
To further endanger those around.
The knowledge instilled from book to teacher a different practice.
Now holstered, hidden in the drawer of a desk.

What goes through the mind of the victim that's been bullied.

What training can be set in place to stop the next bulletin.

Shooting across the screen.

The kid in 10th grade that carries the weight of the world.

Sitting all day staring out the window.

Mother in hospice.

A fragile thought swallowed by deafening silence.

It no longer becomes a listening session of encouragement.

The after school sessions of comfort sped up.

Another bulletin of hysteria fired across the screen.

Teacher student affair.

15 year old student found with 42 year old man.

When in reality she was seeking help due to a troubled home.

Afraid to sleep knowing the door would creep open.

Leaving her terrified to close her eyes. The relationship between step daughter and father without boundary.


Where's the specialty training for those who care.

The proper resources that extend beyond that of a pamphlet.

The dark skin kids that's made fun of because they look different.

Stereotyped as aggressive.
The dope boys, the baby mamas.

The light skin girl that's made to feel inferior because she turns red with every hit.

Her hair is longer than theirs so she wants to cut it.

Aggressively forgetting all the beauty she possesses.

The active shooter managing to make it pass the metal detectors.

Rallying the attention he didn't get at home.

The debate carries on across every wall except the right ones
Hanna Kelley Feb 2015
"You don't understand"
Said her friend with her broken heart.

"You don't understand"
Her dad sighed, begging for a new start.

"You don't understand"
Screamed her boyfriend, his wrists bleeding red.

"You don't understand"
Cried her sister with the voices in her head.

"You don't understand"
Glared the boy, bullied because he was gay.

"but I do understand"
Because I am not okay.

"I understand"
I have a broken heart too.

"I understand"
I need a new start, but you have no clue.

"I understand"
My wrists have bled, my family isn't very kind.

"I understand"
The voices scream and yell throughout my mind.

"I understand"
I am bullied almost everyday.

"I understand"*
Because I am not okay.
To be bullied is to be numb. Having something that makes you happy to have it taken away from you. To live in Pennsylvania, to have my first boyfriend. Everything was great. It was perfect. Until one day I felt the burning in the back of my head as eyes stared at me. Rumors had spread that I was bisexual. They were true, but no one knew that. To be bullied nonstop. Remembering the excruciating pain in my back as I was slammed into lockers. Eventually having to leave before anything extreme happened. That was the toughest thing I ever did. Having to leave everything behind, my friends and family.
Real life experiences
Lorraine day Aug 2013
Mobile phone
Apple I pad
Are these great inventions
Or are they bad?
Face book
Twitter
Take all our time
I refuse to succumb
There not taking mine

Then there's face time
Available to see
Whoever you like
But they won't see me
People like sheep go on line
Not realising
Just how much time

That they have wasted
Nothing gained
Many have been bullied
Many brought to shame
There's a lack of privacy
Lack of respect
Being projected
We therefore must protect
Our self preservation
Dignity pride
Or you may just find
Your washed up
With the tide


Sure I'm not alone in
thinking

Life was a slower Pace
Before  Internet intervention
And mobile phone took their place  .....
Micheal Wolf Dec 2013
Like a chariot she thundered through
As though trying to raise a response in those ambivalent to her purpose
Contained in her own atmosphere
More rarefied than fresh air, like the boy in the bubble
Mm she knew how to use manipulation
For she treated all as though staff or fee paying of her time
Even when ****** and by virtue of decision there was never any quarter
But some, in the minority and silent
Watched her as she destroyed the lives of others
Watched and never acted nor spoke
As though inert
This is now the epitaph
The close
The passing
The bridge is crossed and the fire burns brightly
I care not to see its flames envelop her
Aaron Kerman Jan 2010
“Everybody has won, and all must have prizes.”- Alice in Wonderland

“Everyone knows it’s a race, but no one’s sure of the finish line.”
        -Dean Young, “Whale Watch”

1a
Children rarely listen to any armchair advice from their immediate family, relatives they commonly have contact with or anyone they haven’t known for more than a couple years because in kindergarten or day care they often got gold stars just for showing up… Little glittering prizes plastered on poster boards in elementary school classrooms regardless of grades or mistakes…


1b
On the windy day when you lower the green jet-ski instead of the good one, race it to the north end, out of the safety of the bay, into the choppy waters, you’ll get bullied by the wave’s splash like the cattails of a whip. The lake will overwhelm you; you’ll inhale some of the water,  a sharp pain will course through your body as you try to breathe those short shallow breaths, which you will force yourself to do as seldom as possible. You will cough and keel over on the craft; It’s not uncommon to spit up blood; you will have to return to the dock and raise the jet-ski back onto the boatlift.  You will stub your toe on the cracks in the planking, stumble and get a splinter in the ball of your foot heading towards the deck but won’t notice. All feeling numbs against water trapped inside your lungs.


1c
Jackie Paper’s mother made him a hotdog with potato chips and served it to him on a plastic plate outside so he could enjoy it on the newly refinished deck while he watched the schooners and speedboats, stingray’s and ski-nautique’s jet in and out of the bay. He didn’t wait five minutes after he finished to fly from the deck onto the dock into the water where he free styled too far and got a cramp. His mother almost lost a son that day.



2a
If wet some recommend running around the shore of the lake until the air has thoroughly dried you off. Listening to the gulls dive and racing through the varying levels of grass on the neighbors’ unkempt lawns, in between the oaks and elms, keeping ever mindful the sticks and stones and acorns that litter the ground in lieu of stubbed toes or splinters. You will most likely fail, but you will get dry.


2b
When you **** your big toe on the zebra mussels while wading in the shallows, near the seawall beside the dock, trying to catch crayfish and minnows darting between the stones underneath the water, and the blood doesn’t stop flowing for 10 minutes and the H2O2 bubbles burgundy on the decks maple woodwork, instead of that off white color it usually bubbles, and stings something awful, don’t be a little ***** about it.  It’s your own fault for leaving your aqua-socks on the green marbled tiles in the foyer closet next to the bathroom; where you changed into your bathing suit and got the bottle of peroxide.


2c
Last winter Christopher Robbins drove his red pickup on the ice (near the island, towards the North end, where even when it’s been freezing for weeks the frozen water seldom exceeds six inches in thickness) at night and fell through.  He felt the cold water enter his lungs.  Although it was snowing and no one had noticed he survived; it took him the whole of an hour to reach the nearest house and call home; he lost his truck and suffered from severe hypothermia and acute pneumonia. At the hospital it was determined that while there was ample evidence of the early onset of frostbite in his extremities, amputation would not be necessary.


3a
While sitting Indian style on the dock next to your friends, settled on the plastic furniture, sipping whiskey and beer, comparing scars assume, no matter whose company you’re in, that yours are the smallest. Those cigarette burns running down the length of your right forearm are self-inflicted and old- reminders that you haven’t had to force yourself to breathe in quite some time.

3b
When you jump off the end of the dock you’ll forget to keep your knees loose because you were running on the wooden planks trying to avoid the white weather worn and dirtied dock chairs and worrying about getting a splinter. The water is inviting but during the summer the depth is only three feet four inches. You will roll your ankle at the very least and probably sprain it because, Like an *******, you locked your knees and jumped without looking.


3c
Two summers ago Alice was tubing behind a blue Crown Royal when she hit the wake at an awkward angle and flew head first into the water in the bay a few hundred feet off the dock at dusk. The spotter and driver simply weren’t watching and the wave-runner didn’t see her due to the advancing darkness.  She cracked her head open on the bottom of its hull; swallowed water.  She needed 70 stitches and several staples but Alice made a full recovery.


4
Mothers often tell their children to should chew their food 40 times before swallowing to aid digestion and to wait a full half hour after eating before engaging in physical activity. Especially swimming.


5
When you’re at the lake house this summer skipping stones swimming and running on the dock remember not to listen to any advice.  

If this were a race to get dry you’d be much closer to first than last.

The internal bleeding eventually stops.  The splinters all get pulled out, staples and stitches are removed, lacerations heal and the feeling returns to the fingers and toes.

The water eventually drains from the lungs and only the scars remain:

Gold stars on poster boards;

because everybody has won, and all must have prizes.
The unlikeliest place to find confidence
A boosted self esteem,
When others tore and ripped my mind,
My body image,
Bullied as a child and fourth it continued,
It never seized to amaze me,
The comments they threw,
Like stones they did harm me,
My name was ugly
I named myself unique
My name was freaky
I named myself limited
My name was what many thought I was then,
I named myself what I would be now.
I grew then to be the same as before,
Or so I had thought,
One day arrived at my college life,
Your camera flashed and I began to feel
Different...
They named me ugly
You made it feel as though I wasn't
They named me a freak
You used me for art
To this day,
Years after that,
Thanks to you,
I don't feel so ugly
Don't feel as much like a freak,
You showed me,
I can be infront of the camera and not always behind it.
Thank you,
For being more than a photographer,
More than a friend,
You were a boost to this bullied little girl's self worth and self esteem!

-Kathia Mariana Landeros
Got to do a photoshoot when I hated being infront of the camera and now I love photos I began to learn to love myself
Talia Rose Feb 2016
In a society, image is everything. You are judged from the people you hang out with, the things you do, the clothes you wear.  People shout out that the boy sitting in the corner of gym class is too fat or whisper about how that girl down the hall is far too skinny.  The head of the dance team is told she has one too many curves and should not be “poppin’ and lockin’” with so much confidence, yet the cheerleader is criticized for her petite stature and flat chest.  The boy with the glasses?  He gets bullied daily for his lack of social activity, meanwhile the football **** is faking his confidence and putting on a persona simply to hold up his high school reputation.

Children grow up with the assurance that beauty is on the inside, and that what is on the outside doesn’t matter, yet this statement has proven itself to be false time and time again.  These children were lied to.  You were lied to.  I was lied to. The world is cruel.  It is judgmental and ignorant.  People are turned down their dream jobs over the most miniscule stupidities, such as the fact that they have a tattoo on their arm or because their hair is purple.  You are judged at every corner of your journey, and your world will always revolve around the physicality of how you look.  

No matter how many people believe that appearance is of little importance, there is always a whole world behind them willing to prove them wrong.  But that doesn’t mean we cannot dream.  Dream.  That’s all it is.  That promise that who you are on the inside is enough? It’s all a dreamful desire to look past the image your body presents.  And if dreaming is the only hope we have at being seen as our true self, than you better believe I’m going to keep on dreaming.

Because of the picture society has set out for me, I’ve constantly looked in the mirror seeing nothing but a disappointment.  Every day I find a new flaw, and every day, I realize I am even further from perfection.  But if I can dream that who I am on the inside is enough, than maybe I can become one of the first perfect imperfections out there.

You see, I have never wanted to be perfect, nor do I want to now.  Quite honestly, I don’t believe that perfection exists.  It is a myth.  And yet, everyone seems to be reaching to the stars, going out of their way to attain even the smallest ounce of this so called perfectionism.  Whatever you are reaching for, stop.  Stop and hear me out.  

Beauty is neither from within nor without.  Right is neither in this way nor in that way.  And perfection is neither in your world or mine.  Because we are one in the same.  And the only way to be what our society is calling perfect is to be as imperfect as possible.  Be yourself, because no matter what you do, I can promise you that you will be judged. With every step you take, expect a shadow to crawl up behind you and tell you are doing it wrong.  Expect to be an outcast and to not fit in “perfectly.” Expect to be criticized and ridiculed, because it will happen anyways.  Why are you going to strive to be perfect and risk losing yourself, when you can simply embrace each and every flaw to create the most beautiful imperfection possible?  Don’t live to please others.  Don’t strive to be perfect when perfection is nonexistent.  Embrace what your mamma gave you and rock each imperfection like it is no one else’s business. Because in the end, this is your dream, and being the captain of your own voyage is the only way to make it worth it.  It is the only way to become perfectly imperfect.
Ryan Unger Aug 2015
“Stop picking on me, please, just leave me alone;
I’ve done nothing to you, I’m just trying to go home.
You might think it’s funny, the kind of clothes I wear,
But I don’t understand why you would even care.

So what if I wear thick glasses because I need help to see,
Because I see clearly you’re someone I hope I’ll never be.
Every time you call me ‘stupid,’ that really hurts me too,
Trust me, you would feel the same if it was said to you.

I might be small and might be weak but that is no excuse,
My body size is something that I just did not choose.
I know I like to spend recess escaping into my books,
It’s unfair that when I try to smile you give me ***** looks.

The bruises on my arm you gave still are black and blue,
I really wish you could see yourself through my point-of-view.
School is a place that I should be able to learn and have fun,
But you took that joy away from me and now I’m left with none.

I don’t have many friends and I feel I don’t fit in,
My whole life I’ve fought a losing battle and for once I’d like to win.

My home life is very hard, and my parents fight each day,
They tell me they don’t love me and they wished I’d go away.
I have nobody I can talk to, and it makes my cry at night,
I hoped school could pull me from my darkness and finally show me light.

So please, I beg you, leave me be, I feel fragile and distraught,
Because you don’t know a thing about the battles that I’ve fought.”
Michaela Ferris Oct 2013
Her bittersweet revenge
Lingering in your mind.
Those haunting ghostly words
From a girl locked away
from this evil eyed world.

Her haunting ghostly complexion
The cause of all your nightmares.
The blooded knife that fell
And missed you by an inch.
You are too afraid to cry.

The ****** in the alley
Your name written in blood.
You know that she is coming,
You're the next one on her list.
She tells you that you best get running.

To her it's all a game
The first one dead wins it all.
But you don't know her secret...
She is a figment of your imagination.
She is that girl you bullied to death.

Her bittersweet revenge
Lingering on your mind.
You made a promise
and never again
Will you make anyone suffer.

So just before you speak a word,
Make sure you know the truth.
This could be your next sin.
You could be her next victim...
The girl you bullied to death.
jesse packard Dec 2014
I have a few words to say about this bullying that is going on in school's these days. So here goes.

Hello my name is Jesse Packard I am 21 and I was bullied everyday in school and in my regular life. I was in a deep dark time in my life while in school cause I had one friend and everyone... And I mean EVERYONE picked on me because I was short and I was a special needs child. I found that the only thing that would make life better was to **** myself and just leave my loved ones. So I tried but every time I tried all I could see was my family.

At school most of the kids hit me and most of the teachers said horrible things about me. Like how I was going to be nothing and I was gay, and how my family didn't even care that I was alive. I got tired of it and I told a teacher that if he told me I was " to ******* ******* to get my GED" one more time that he would not like the outcome. The next day in first period he walked up to me and said it again. So what did I do I let my anger get to me and I decked him in the face and broke his nose. I then walked out of the school told them all to go to hell. My parents were mad but I told them what happened and my dad hugged me and told me he was proud of me for the first time in my life.

Look at me now I have my GED and I have the job I have been dreaming of. To say that bullying was a good thing I can't do but if it wasn't for it I would not have strived so hard to show everyone that I was going to do what I said I was going to do. I love my family, and most importantly I love my gf and my 5 month old baby boy. I will keep on striving to make an amazing life for my boy and my girl. I will sacrifice all just to know that they are doing well. And my dad told me he was proud of me for the second time when my boy was born. I will never stop giving to my family and I will love them.

I have done everything for my girl and baby boy because I never thought that my love for her and him would knock away all the pain from being bullied in school. I know that this is the girl that I'm going to marry because make me feel like I am enough and nothing less. So if you are being bullied please send me a Private message if you would like to talk about it with a person who knows exactly how you feel.
Krusty Aranda Jun 2013
So where do I start?

I've bullied you for so long.
Told you you're fat,
then anorexic,
then ugly,
then silly...
The list keeps going on.

Recently I saw the scars on your wrist.
I really never saw them coming.

I didn't think you'd do that.

All the things I said I never meant. That's how we used to play.
I never thought it would have this kind of impact on you.

So please forgive me for all the things I've said.
If I ever hurt you, which I now know I did, please find it in your heart to forgive a blind fool.
He who never saw the damage behind a hurtful game, now regrets all the love he wasted on others.
I wish this is just a phase that ends up soon.

I've bullied you for so long, but isn't that what siblings do?
I've been such a hypocritical fool. Never more will I say something hurtful to anyone.
I was a really cool kid
I wasn’t getting teased bullied or fought
I was just a cool kid to the men
Oh yeah a really cool kid
I did farts, people said I was a child
I said yes I am a kid a really really really cool kid
They thought I was a tad dumb
I never knew where my meals were coming from
I was just a tad dumb
I was a really cool kid
I wasn’t getting teased or bullied or fought
I was way to smart for that
Yes I am a really cool kid
I went to pubs to dance with the chicks
And when I drank I was a lunatic
But everyone liked me in there
You see I had my fair share of problems when people yelled at me because I was cool I was a really cool kid
I was a really cool kid
I have never gotten teased or bullied or fought
Never never never a cool kid to a fight
I just wanted to be cool
I ain’t a gay no no
People get the wrong impression that I like men
I prefer to just drink with the men
And if I have *** it will be with the ladies
I am a really cool kid
People used to say what are you looking at Turk they just were being nice to me
Thinking that is what I really want
I am a really cool kid
I am a really cool kid
I will never get teased bullied or fought
I just will get mucked with oh yeah
As I party on
As I party on, dudes
Atlas Rover Mar 2014
Tears streaked down his cheeks,
Why didn't they realize it hurt.
It started with a single word.
"Useless" and they killed him.

Days turned into months.
Yet his tormentors didn't let him go.
Angry, bitter, afraid and left alone,
Like arrows, the words began to pierce his soul.

Weak. Stupid. Idiot. ****.
The voices in his head,
Were no longer his friends.
Useless filth why not end it?

Left alone, with those brutal voices.
With those horrible fears,
Alone with those terrible words,
He took to the blade.

He watched the blood leave his veins,
His skin grow cold and pale.
USELESS. USELESS. USELESS.
Carved forever on his skin.

No goodbyes, no more horror.
After having written down,
All the secrets he could spill,
Before dosing on a dozen sleeping pills.

— The End —