I am pushed
To the floor
But not just my knees
Are scraped
So is my soul

I think back
To when my first grade
Teacher told me that rhyme
The lie about sticks and stones
And how words can't hurt me

I guess it is true to some extent
But they are leaving out the truth
No, words can't physically hurt me
But they will slowly chip away
At my soul and happiness

Until I am left with nothing
No friends
No love
No one
Who understands

The others are now laughing
At my weakness
At my clothes
At me
For being different

Is that such a crime
To be yourself?
Isn't that
What the teachers
Encouraged?

A tear falls
Down my cheek
As they point at my
Beat up sneakers
And sack lunch

They slowly clear out
Not wanting
To be last
In line for
Hot lunch

A boy stands alone
Watching me
As I stand up shakily
Brush myself off
And rub my knees

I don't want to
Go to the cafeteria
Where I will sit alone
Like every other
Day

But something in me
Also doesn't want to
Show them
They can beat me
So I walk that way

The boy follows me
"Wait" he says
I look back
Thinking he will just
Start laughing like the others

But he only takes my hand
Telling me I'm not alone
At least there are a few
Good people in the world
I thought