The Kids at School


Even though she looks unhappy to be here,

every time the last bell rings she doesn't hustle out the door like the rest of them do.

she drags her feet.

The boys call her names, they tell her she's ugly,

that she looks like a man, they make fun of her for being flat chested.

When the boys at school saw the scars on her arms

they told her "stop crossing the street and to go up it" 

She never knew what she did to deserve the mental beating that they gave her, every day.

They had no idea that every night when she went home

she'd lock herself in the bathroom and slash up her thighs.

Nobody had any idea that they had taken away her safe place.

Cause every morning she went to school to escape.

The dark circles under her eyes grew darker and she lost more and more sleep.

She wanted to die

but at the same time she didn't want her homicidal adopted siblings to knife her in her sleep.

See, nobody had any idea that the reason why she was constantly rubbing her eyes

because the night before her little brother had been beating the shit out of her mother.

Or that her little sister tried to stab her.

See, if you ask a doctor about her siblings they would tell you that they have mental health issues.

If you were to ask her about it though,

she'd tell you that they lack a conscience.

The kids at school didn't care,

they kept up their taunts.

Adding more advanced jokes like

jabbing her stomach with rulers and saying

"sorry we killed your baby."

They had no idea that they were only adding to her pain.

They weren't there the night that her older sister tried to get her brother to clean his room.

They weren't there to hear everything that was once loud go silent.

They weren't there when she walked into his doorway and saw his hands around her sisters neck. They didn't see the shade of purple shade she turend from not being able to catch her breath.

They didn't see the malicious look in his eyes knowing she was moments away from death.

The kids at school weren't there the day she couldn't get his hands off her neck.

Those kids, they didn't see how many blows she had to throw to his face to make his hands let go. Yeah. Those kids at school didn't have any clue.

They never saw what she had to go through.

They never saw her struggle. Never took all the beatings she recieved.

They didn't have to spend every waking moment on guard

knowing that someone might, quite literally, stab them in the back.

Their ears never had to bleed the way hers did

every night when she needed sleep

and they bellowed and screamed.

They had no idea that everytime they asked her to kill herself 

She'd been already wishing to take her last breath.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741