May 22, 2011
By Letusbelennon BRONZE, Tucson, Florida
Letusbelennon BRONZE, Tucson, Florida
3 articles 1 photo 1 comment

Growing up.
They whisper, laughing
Calling out to you.

I don’t know,
You tell me,
Hands covering your swollen eyes.

The cell phone ringing
You have a question.
She had one too.

Can’t they let it
Who cares?
Who knows?

Not me, you say.
Sitting on the cold bricks.
Parties aren’t meant for crying and
I know it.

Yet, she asked
And so you cry.
And I sit off to the side.

How can I know?
What is there to say?
My green eyes are equally
Full as your blue ones.

Middle school was not
Created in order to help you.
They mock you
And judge you.

Can’t you be yourself?
Not so easy
And they taunt
And tease.

You said,
All I want to do is sing
And be with people
Nothing more.

We all want

I am the anchor,
The core.
But I am as
Clueless as you.

We are the outcasts.
They shine and we
Ache dully.
Like polished gems, they glow.

We throb with
Empty and so lonely.
We are silent.

Sitting on the sidelines as
They dance.
Do we still make a noise
If no one is there to hear it?

Your tears trace thoughts on your skin
That I know you won’t say.
But I know that someday,
They will wash away.

Life is an endless pattern.
You won’t be the last.
And I won’t be the first to watch
It hurt you.

Thanks for being a great friend,
You say, as the tears
Slip down my cheeks in turn.

I hear your screams.

The author's comments:
I wrote this after a talk with my friend.

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