He was a bully
Someone who is to be called a bad word.
People think he’s hilarious.
That thought is really quite obscure.
He would call me names
He would taunt me and tease.
The horrible thing is…
He only does it to me
People wonder why I hate him,
They also wonder why, whenever he’s near,
I sit there, so quiet, my eyes filled with hatred and fear.
Those names, they make my mind race…
I think the same thought every day
“How come even when he is heard by an adult they laugh? Does he ever have to pay?”
I’ll take that as a no.
Is he right?
Am I really retarded and dumb?
Should I know the truth like I do the back of my hand?
I’ll take that as a yes.
Yet of course he is a bully
A bully who only picks on me
So since he is a bully his taunts and teasing and name callings can’t last forever,
He won’t see it coming.
He’s a bully and I’m not letting him in.
This is my life and this is my time,
He can stay outside.
Maybe he will feel the same as I once did…
Neglected, left out, and cold.
Just as how I had felt before I let him go.