I’m twelve years old and a hundred sixty pounds,
Wearing baggy old clothes and nothing but frowns.
I recall the sick in my stomach at the thought of waking up,
Of heading off to school, of simply showing up.
Walking through those silver gates with the other students glowing,
I don’t see how they cannot know the fear that I’m showing.
I’m full of endless worries, frustration, sadness and hate,
As I’m pushing through the crowds and when I’m swinging on that gate.
If I could hold that kid now, I’d strangle him with hope,
Instead of plans of escape or of noose and rope.
He was just a boy, but the kids can be cruel,
With their envy confusion incidentally their fuel.
I don’t pretend I was perfect but what I know is that I tried,
Tried as hard as I could, and even harder than I cried.
They don’t see what I feel, when they tell me that I’m fat,
They just shout through their teeth like I’m nothing but that,
Nothing else but what they say, like it’s matter of fact.
As I turn my head, without a plan to react.
And as silly as it is I just listened to them,
Instead of looking to the front to let karma condemn.
Created: Feb 19, 2014trentrobertjohn Document Media