I wrote this poem when I was 16, nearly 7 years ago. Two years ago it was published in an anthology. It is A most personal piece, which I wrote during my maths GCSE.
Numbers always failed me, words always saved me.
I don’t know where to begin.
Maybe I have an idea, maybe I don’t.
Maybe I’ll find words to explain
This hurt this destruction this shame.
Then again I probably won’t.
In the beginning I could take it.
I could handle her.
Brush the vicious comments off my shoulder.
No matter how bad they were.
In the beginning, I could take it.
The past I thought- had moulded me strong.
Turns out my initial feelings couldn’t have been more wrong
Another whisper, another threat, another CUT EYE to a ‘sket’
More torment, more upset, another night I haven’t slept.
Continuous humiliation Scratched neck scratched face, black eye
Again came the staring, the “what is she wearing”
The laughing the games, the text messages, the names..
Constant intimidation, my anger it just grew.
The stress, the tears, the embarrassment
of never knowing what to do.
That nervous feeling in the morning, stomach all churned up,
The thought of what’s in store makes u wanna curl Up,
But instead I’ll put my guard Up, and PRETEND I’m strong.
And it’s funny.
Because I’m not.
And it’s funny because sometimes it feels all I can do is write,
Writings my release when the suns not too bright.
Then it comes to the dreams at night..
The nice ones where when times get hard,
That magical fairy will drizzle her dust and everything will be ok again.
The sun will come out again.
The princess is happy again.
But then I wake up and its school again, assembly again,
And it’s funny coz I can hear it.
It enters my mind slowly-
But once it’s in it takes over makes me weak makes me weep.
Makes me angrily slap each tear, that dares trickle down my cheek.
I can hear it, hear them, her nasty words her venom,
Her poison in my head.
Its cold its dark its hell and its living,
Its bitter its violent it’s cunningly unforgiving.
I can visualise it, I can still see her smirking, too many memories are lurking,
I can still feel it, FEEL her force feel her whack,
It’s like whenever I move on,
She just KEEPS COMING BACK.
I can still smell it, her authority.
Perhaps not as strong as she can smell my fear.
Painful. Such a painful devils world.
Dirty spiteful bleak old world.
It feels like im trapped.
A caged animal. A helpless innocent shaking animal for her to play with.
Well it feels like that.
Like everyone’s jeering, cheering, and speaking nosily peaking in.
Gawping and squawking at me all alone.
Imagine no sleep, No laughter no happily ever after,
No freedom of speech, No back-up
No punishment for guilty evil people,
No rules no limits, just upheaval.
So I’ll cry and they’ll promise that soon it’s gonna stop,
But she – she’s like a broken record that’s never gonna drop,
So I’ll just wait until this shameful bubble goes POP
Why, just why won’t she leave me alone?
I don’t know why I’m asking you,
Because you will read this
Perhaps have a little think about it.
Perhaps try and categorize it,
Perhaps even read it twice.
Well perhaps I should invite you into my world,
Now wouldn’t that be nice?