Now before I start I would to convey the fact that I hate this poem with an absolute passion and feel that it is not good enough on any technical standard so please don’t pick at it too much. I do want constructive criticism
So anyway… here goes:
A Poem About Bullying
Here I sit all sad and alone,
Nobody else here to see
How much pain this is causing me
And how my imperfections are being boldly shown.
Why do they do this?
Walking through the gravel grounds
Listening to troubling taunts, insults and jokes
Like thousands of painful sword-like pokes.
I am getting tired of all these sour sounds.
Why must they do this?
On the stool in biology class
With my face in my hands; tears in my heavy head.
How long will it be before I see red?
Their words are so coarse and crass.
What makes them do this?
The corridor is the tedious tunnel of hate,
With little gremlins gnashing their teeth
And pointing me out much to my grief.
Their malicious mouths send me off to my fate.
How would they like it if it was them?
So here it is between Maths and English
That I finally throw down my bulky bag
And deal out the punches, blood making him gag,
Seeing him off to the finish.
How did he like that?
They leave me alone if just for a week
After I lash out with fists like flails.
They scatter away; between their legs are their tails
Looking positively pathetic and rather meek.
Should I be enjoying this?
My red-stained path of awkward anger and retaliation,
Hurting an innocent has now caused me terrible trouble
And has burst my ticking time bomb bubble.
Now I am looking for some retribution.
How could I have done this?
And so it is here – the delightful day I finally leave,
Looking to the future and my hopes and dreams
Which were once downtrodden and ripping at the seams,
But the first fateful thing I must do is grieve.
What have they done to me?
There it is. I hate it but I suppose most people would hate their own work if they aren’t entirely happy with it…