A message to the douche I once were

How are you doing?

Let me change the question

How were you doing?

Let me guess

You were crumpling sheets of papers

From the handwritten words of your classmates

You were crushing their hearts

As if every single one of them are made of instant noodles

Hearing high-pitched tunes of melancholy and pain

Laughing with a hoarse voice

That can be heard throughout the non-existent halls of our high-rise school building

Making everything in our rooms crumble

Into sheets of unspoken hatred and sadness

From the people you have stepped on

As if the world's shedding tears from gaps among the continents that were once a whole

Filling it with vigorous oceans and silent seas which can never be fully explored

Because the pain you caused lies in the deepest abyss below the ocean floor

A message to the douche I once were

What happened?

Growing up doesn't always mean you will grow mustaches, beards, and armpit hair

Growing up means shrinking into something you thought you will never be

The world flipped and the old-school back row bully

Is now the front row trash can of garbage words

That are meant to pierce through the thick layers of body tissue

Leaving an internal scar that can never heal

Killing the man we all call self-esteem

A message to the douche I once were

In your palms lie the guilt you received from the sheets of paper you crumpled and tore

No longer hearing high-pitched tunes but distorted laughter

And dark howls from the tampered souls of the garbage throwers

You once were alike

A message to the douche I once were

Right now you are still grasping the reality of how devastating your words were

You bit your tongue with your mightiest scream of guilt

Willing to cut the source of all the roars from the oceans and the seas that were made

Hoping to close the abyss you formed under the ocean floor

Having faith in your bitten tongue that it's not yet too late

To close the gaps you made with your untamed mouth

Last message to the douche I once were

No matter how hard you try

The scars you left will not fully heal

It will leave a slightly darker spot on the surface of their lives

Staining their whole understanding of themselves

Making them look at the mirror to make sure every inch of their face

Is covered with the crayon your words produced

As if their faces are childrens' coloring books

Filled with broken lines of color on every centimeter

This is my message to the douche I once were