In the corridors of our final year, where futures are dreamed, Lies a story untold, of a boy who once gleamed. With skin like the night, rich and profound, He walked these halls, until bullies found.

A jest, a jeer, masked as a friend's tease, Grew into a storm, brought him to his knees. Their laughter, a dagger, in the daylight's glare, His pain invisible, in the school’s air.

Each day, he'd brace for the onslaught to come, In the lunchroom's cacophony, he felt numb. Until one day, the façade could hold no more, Tears broke free, a silent lore.

Alone, amidst the roar of the crowd, His cries for help, silent but loud. No friend stepped forth, no ally near, Invisible in his pain, swallowed by fear.

I watched, a bystander, my heart tight, Witnessing his fade, into the night. Regret stings sharp, for I too stayed quiet, In his moment of need, I chose to deny it.

Now, empty is his chair, a ghost in the class, A reflection of our actions, a mirror of glass. Too late we realize, the power of our voice, In his solitude, we made our choice.