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Tears

They tell me to be happy. 

They tell me that ‘no one sits alone’ 

that there’s ‘no bullying at this school!’

but I can tell you firsthand that that’s not true. 

Not one bit. 

At night, 

I cry. 

I cry myself a river, as they say

because I cannot cry any other time. 

They will just tell me that I’m sad

or to cheer up

or the awful ‘what’s wrong?’

It just won’t do. 

So I cry. 

Rainbow tears for those who are bullied

and shunned and commit suicide

for being of a different sexuality. 

Dark, dark tears for those who are depressed. 

Tears of black for the rape victims. 

Tears of pearl for those who are disabled. 

Salty tears for the

ones who have committed suicide.

I cry and I cry. 

And my eyes are red in the morning. 

But I do it again. 

And again and again. 

Because for as long as we live,

these are all going to happen. 

Nothing will change. 

I have no say in it, 

for what can I do?

They silence me when I try to speak. 

They talk over me. 

They tell me to shut up and that I don’t matter. 

Someday I will show them what they have done. 

Even if it costs me my life.

 

◄ Life of Lies

Trapped in Silence ►

Comments

<Deleted User> (19913)

Fri 7th Dec 2018 11:25

Bullying - code for behaviour that creates scars that last a lifetime. Thanks for a thought provoking, wrenching poem.

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Taylor Crowshaw

Fri 7th Dec 2018 11:08

Elle, my eldest son suffered bullying all through school. We tried everything to help, to stop the bullying. The schools did nothing, except to call us in when he finally snapped and retaliated. The police did nothing even tho these boys walked around with baseball bats.The parents of the bullies were in denial. This was in an affluent area on a nice estate professional parents. Eventually I spoke personally to the boys responsible. I told them they were ruining his life and I did not want them to like him just leave him alone. They did leave him alone but after many years of bullying my son now 40 suffers from agoraphobia. The bullies have families and one is actually a policeman. God help us all..

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Wendy

Fri 7th Dec 2018 06:48

Elle your poem hits home having known bullying for a lifetime it never ends thoughts you have had or felt the only way is writing things down keep up the good work love Wendy x

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