It was so sad...
No One Believed
Prejudice, bullying and envy, swagger hand in hand and can raise their mean, ugly heads in many forms; creating untold misery.
No one believed the sad thin child at the back.
Wearing lank, tangled hair and a torn haversack.
That her laces were string or her nails harboured dirt.
Could not hide the sad fact of her sad second-hand skirt.
She tried not to talk and when asked she would stutter.
Shallow cheeks turned ablaze as her stomach would flutter.
Behind cracked sticky-tape glasses, she’d humbly hide.
As her eyes never dried from the longing she cried.
No one believed her, nobody could.
That a creature so meagre held raw talent so good.
Mean students would taunt her, “If you want a pass...”
“Please share your fine prose with the rest of the class...”
Her temples cried burn as her dry throat would narrow.
Each cruel pair of eyes cocked a poisonous arrow.
Her stutters grew worse as the sniggers grew stronger.
One day she decided to take it no longer.
The sad child in the sad skirt sat mute at the back.
If she hid and wrote nothing they’d be no attack.
Yet the words never stopped, dancing smooth in her head.
She stills writes them down, but they’ll never be read.
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