Remember those days
when you used to play
on slides and swings
just about everyday

and the shallow skirt girls
stood to the side
full and occupied
with boys on their mind?

talking fashion
and passion
for the newest
song or singer

and the boys
making noise
as they chase
and harass,
but girl can’t act chicken
‘cause he’s the king of the class,
but another boy likes her
and know a fight is on
all the other wanted to do
was to say “I love you”
but he’d be a wimp.
Oh! He’d be a fool,
so fists go fly.
Splat and splot!
Man stand tall
‘cause the weak are forgot.
Don’t show weakness,
don’t show them how you feel.
Be a man!
Be the friggin real deal!
Make believe you’re one of them
like you are part of the team
to feel like you’re a winner,
to feel like you’re supreme.
Don’t you cry,
you can go home
or win the fight.
Be brave, be valiant,
be courageous this recesstime!

Hide
inside
false pride,
and let them think you belong
in this stupid game
of false life,
pretending that you are someone you despise,
and you realize:
this
pain
drives you insane.
and stains the mind.

You fall so deep in the game
you forget you’re a player;
you can quit
right now,
but no,
everyone will see,
and everyone will frown down.
All around
and round
you look,
you’re afraid
of slipping up,
of making a mistake,
fearing you have to be
one of those robotic copies
called the “in-crowd,”
programmed and created
by fear of not being accepted,
of showing too much
of your weakness.
You think you can hide
and show you’re alright
on the outside,
but the heart is burning
with blood so acidic
that needs treatment,
yet you keep up your game
with the boys or girls
‘cause appearance is everything,
so give it your best shot,
and you’ll be safe in this world.

Remember when you could no
longer take it anymore,
and you almost took your own life
because the blood was burning on,
and you could no longer hide,
and no one dares talk to you another recesstime
because you could no longer fake
what wasn’t inside.