i remember it being on a thursday
because i knew they had wanted
shame to find me on a friday,
at least that is how i remember it.
silence has a way of reaching out and letting me down
their eyes tell, something is coming
something worse than the let down
loneliness.
i cried as she watched through the window
they told me they could do without me
or my friendship
the world had left me for dead
all my friends turned
biting me,
sending me to the bottom
until i found my way,
carrying myself on my own shoulders.
i’m tired of this game;
snakes and ladders
poet's notes ~ stream of consciousness behind the poem
i don't remember much about this day other than in elementary school my closest friends told me they didn't want to be my friend anymore. crazy how times like these stay with you forever. i'm no longer angry but it's something i'll never forget. the worst part was that the following day it felt like i had been exiled, i was back at square one. all eyes were on me. i think that's why i'm always searching...what was wrong with me? will i ever find out?
About the Creator
venice
i still write, you still inspire
based in toronto
*keep an eye out for poet's notes: the story behind the poem*
follow me on ig: @curatedbyven
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Broken Glass
Of all the students Mr. Benedick expected to see in his office, he did not expect the boy who was sitting there. What grade was this one, he thought? He walked over to his desk, looked at the folder Ms. Diner had left out for him, and opened it. There was a photo inside of it, taken from last year’s picture day. Not much growth; not too different. The boy sitting in front of him had nothing strange or unusual in his file, if a child’s life defined by having “nothing disruptive or regretful” in it could be called fine. Mr. Benedick also realized that “life” was an anagram of “file,” and wondered where that thought came from as he stared at the boy in front of him. Benny Duncan. Grade Four. Beloved by all his teachers so far. He had seen the boy playing with the other boys his age in the school yard at recess. Four Square and foot hockey. A normal-looking kid. A normal kid… And here he was, after a very stupid moment with the fire alarm and a shoe.
By Kendall Defoe 2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
I've been through the same exact thing! I too am no longer angry but the memory will always stay with me. Loved your poem so much!
Good work!!!