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Thursday, January 9, 2014

Bullying: Is Not Always Physical (To School Professor)

What is it, I am I just optimistic or pitiable?

My legs are weak as gun at point blank,
My eyes threaten to trickle with tears,
My throat cries out in pain,
I'm straining to breathe, stench of sweat and horror
This hard and stained locker,
Hurts my already thrashed back,

They take my lunch,
They stole my speech,
As I turn my eyes to avoid eye contact,
I meet blue tainted eyes staring back,
It's just another normal day of school,
What is your scrutiny, what impression do I emit,
A naïve dark skinned, without much brains,
I see the the muffled laughter in your eyes,
Contradicting myself as I aspire for Harvard,

As I breach the threshold of your class,
The saddened and wasted look of disgust,
Like you've already stamped my forehead with FAILURE,
Yet you snicker because you believe that I will fall,
Unfortunately I'm not the student that sits in the back of the class with his head down,
That you praise with his Einstein GPA and honored marks,
Neglecting his bruised face and tear-stricken eyes,
Always starving for approval the result of abuse,
Neither am the girl who sits in the center of attention with tainted eyes and mind,
with her fake smile and witty quips in response to your blatant comments on her whorish,
Apparel branding her a slut,
She is clearly sickened with herself but wants to fits in, regardless she is still someone
But you don't open your arms to offer tender words but a harsh reality,
So she cuts cuts,

I sit in the front of class slowly being pulled into a harsh reality,
Uncertain as to why,
I can't hear your pitiful thoughts; neither do I want to,
Try not to feel pity or just keep giving the impression of being insignificant and dim-witted,
Were all going to prove you wrong,
Later I ponder how,

Class ends,
I stop to pick up my tattered pencil,
Eraser hackneyed,
Standing above me with a smirk, ,
Envisioning me scrubbing floors to princes and princess with a penniless existence
you believe no one can make it in a world without the power of money,

I know I won't be soaring the site with these tattered wings,
Nevertheless learn how to believe in my abilities,
clawing my way in with my bare nails,

Professor Open your eyes,
And your ignorant soul,
To a world of woes and hopes,
I'll tell you who I am, as I sit here so still;

I may be de dreaming but I'll keep reaching for my leaping heart;
A loving man with children of our own or,
business women traveling the world with her prominent faith waiting for her chance,
Dark days will appear,
I ‘ll shudder in sorrow or dread,
But I'll always look for peaking hope in the future,

As I grow, look for the options, I try to learn from past experience, but I plan or the future by Focusing exclusively on the present, that where all the laughs are;

Why we're alive is not to selfishly think of ourselves or to cherish our toys and weapons
but to build a world where acceptance can be comprehensible,
Where humans can be pieces of broken glass cutting deep painfully or,
thin wisps across the skyline.
LiLiana Lee
Topic(s) of this poem: believe
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
For an Angel that left to early
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