I shake at home plate waiting for the pitcher, knowing I don’t need to swing
Our eyes lock and a smirk steals across his face, while fear runs across mine
The ball is released and slams into my leg once again
The same spot as the past eight innings, but this is the last ups
I take my base trying not to limp
Hanging my head low hiding the tears that slide,
but how many times can you get hit before you’re permanently bruised?
The black and blue’s are there
Hidden beneath all the dirt

School is accompanied by blank stares and hushed remarks
striking me dead in the center
I just have to make it home safely, where I can let their words hit me hard
12 years old and wanting no more
I snag the equipment needed to end this game
I put the stained black rope around my neck, fitting like a glove
scratching the tears away with its sandpaper-like coils,
but my eyes continue to throw them down my cheeks
I am a lying, pathetic loser that deserves to be all alone
Their swings at my esteem echo in my head
I kick the chair I’m standing on and accept the calls

A change up in my plans
A curve ball hits me harder than any other
Yet leaves no mark this time
I look up from my fall in awe wondering how,
How am I not out?
Why am I safe?