He hated himself for the way they made him feel.
The very reason he wore a cast on his arm.
Faded ink, three signatures.
Mom, Dad. Himself.
They insulted him daily.
They'd talk about his clothes.
They'd call him out of his name.
Each day they'd find him,
Shoving him into the lockers.
His Heart running ramp it.
He didn't know what to do,
Each time he ran, it got worse.
He stood there nervous. Wishing it would end.
They were much bigger than him.
The two of them. Laughing, looking down on him.
His tears felt their way beneath the frame of his glasses.
He wouldn't tell for fear of what would happen.
He stood there balled up, taking punches where ever they would land.
Hoping that any minute a teacher would walk into the hall.
Soon as the bell rang
He'd look behind himself as he changed classes.
Making sure he is the only one in the bathroom when he had to use it.
Soon he could no longer hide the bruises that grew in length
As one day, things went to far.
His stepfather sees them.
Obnoxious, he makes things worse.
Making him feel alone. Inadequate.
Worthless.
When his mom asks he lies and says he fell.
They'd chase him up and down the halls.
Until one day,
A teacher was called to the office for a meeting with a parent and caught them punching him against the lockers
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem