Image copyright Bill Dodds
Image Copyright Bill Dodds
playing by yourself again
how do you expect anyone to be your friend
when you're such a peculiar thing
too shy to look anyone in the eye
exploring alone on a Saturday
wishing the Lord your soul would take
sometime on Sunday night
before Monday rolls around
and you're back at school
with the pretty boys and girls
who bully you mercilessly
after years of being taunted
your inquisitive spirit stagnates
lying dormant in the graveyard of your heart
as you attempt to pacify
your restless, wounded soul
and false love
and other lies you tell yourself
to get through another day
The November PAD Chapbook Challenge prompt was to write a Health poem. So, I chose to write about how bullying impacted my mental health, not just in childhood but throughout my entire life. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me is horseshit. I have been both physically and psychologically abused. I would say that not all of the scars are visible, but given another thought, yes, they all are.
A friend who is on the autism spectrum pointed out that there are a lot of people who say that they would never make fun of a person with autism. However, those same people will gladly make fun of a "weirdo" who doesn't "act normally."
When I was bullied in school, my family would tell me that I needed to "stop being so weird" and then the other kids would accept me. I allowed people to do terrible things to me in the hopes of being accepted.
If you have been bullied or abused, you are not the one to blame even though you are the one who carries the pain.
I still feel like nobody hears me or will ever hear me. But I will never again let anyone use me as their punching bag or for their sick perversions. Abuse is not love.
Please do me a favor and don't tell me that you hope this poem isn't autobiographical. It is. It is my reality. It is my truth.
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