There’s a little lad standing alone in the yard
Away from a playground, bounded by scars
His classmates play gaily, whist he watches afar
His name could be Jeffery, Eric or Carl
But his name does not matter, at least not to them
Since he has been outcast- duly condemned
From the playground condition, he couldn’t quite blend.
He is not overly handsome, funny, or trim
Which makes him a target for a bully named Tim
Now this name is known, and this name is cool
This is the name that rules the school.
So Tim tells Carl he’s worthless, pathetic, uncool
And Carl goes home feeling a fool
Over dinner, his Mama will ask why he cries
And while wiping away tears he’ll say
“I’m doing just fine”
And Mom will believe him, because why would he lie?
This cycle continues, day after day
Tim’s unkind words begin to eat Carl away…
One day he decides to speak to his Dad
About the sad troubles at school he has had
Dad begins in a tone that is rough
Telling wee Carl he must stand up and be tough
“Every boy gets bullied, that is a norm
Stand up for yourself, or at least try to conform
You will get nowhere in life, being so kind”
And with that, Dad leaves while saying,
“Carl, you’re doing just fine.”
So Carl will live the rest of his days,
Assuming that this is all just a phase
And yes, the phase will eventually end
But the scars of the playground will never quite mend
He will grow old reminiscing this plight
Feeling like he was never quite right.
Joni sits stagnant, froze to her bed
Stunned by the words, she has just read
The words sting like razors cutting through flesh
And her sobs of regret come out in small breaths
She made a mistake, she can’t take it back
And ever since then, she’s been being attacked
Slut, Whore and Prosti-tot
Are the words that they write
All of these words are out in plain sight.
Mother will see them and cry tears that bite
Daddy will read them and scold her with might
Joni’s not thinking clearly, she’s not thinking right
She can’t figure out how to get rid of this plight
Even the boy who was with her that night
Has begun writing words of familiar trite.
She hates herself for indulging in sin
She has sullied her name, and thwarted her kin
And soon Joni will lash out from within
By sliding a blade against her marked skin
This is not new for Joni, her scars will oblige
But the emotions she feels, she knows soon will subside
She glides the knife to an area which hides
Under her clothes to conceal all her cries,
And as the blade separates her pale rind,
She thinks to herself, “I’m gunna be fine”.
Lance was a freshmen in the collage he picked
Lance thought in college the cliques would be kicked
And maybe they were, but Lance could not quit
Seeing the labels that made his teeth grit.
He had to work hard for the grades that he sought
The pressure was on since the classes were bought
Ma- proud of her baby, the first to go far
Pop, loving the thought of his boy above par.
Lances head began spinning from the classes he took
Each day a growing stack of college text books
His eyes grew weary, mind filling with fury
Turning to drugs to forget all his worries
And as it so happened, these drugs took him away
To a place where he needn’t worry about textbooks or grades,
And those grades began slipping to a faraway place
And ma no longer looked at him with credit and grace.
Pop told him one day, to pick it all up
Or the funding for school would all go away…
And maybe it was because the drugs had anchored his mind
But depression swept over, making him blind
‘Trapped’ was the only word he could find
As he walked off that campus, not looking behind.
One year later, he sat broken and cold on the street
With a needle in hand, looking down at his feet
And as he plunged it, one last time,
He looked up at the sky
And thought to himself, “soon, all will be fine”.
These words that I write
Are not tall tales or lies
They are issues that concern everyday lives
So next time you hear ‘I’m doing just fine’
Look closer at the additional signs
Because sometimes ‘fine’,