A parody, a mockery!
That’s what they’ve made of me.
Brilliance plastered on the wall
Then to their ignorance does it befall.
They’re chuckling, snorting, laughing with glee
Repulsed, I run from the absurdity.
Alone. Here the metal lockers line the hall.
On one, I watch a little spider crawl.
Pitying; “You’re so horribly lonely.
How does it feel to be hated by all?”

As if it scowled, I beat it to pieces.
“Those barbarians! I hate those idiots!”
Painfully twitching, the spider withers.
“Art thou lame? Prithee come hither.”
And I smash it.
Drama! Bravo- ah, the poor thing looks so pathetic…
And it blurs. Oh God. Furiously, my eyes become wetter.
Does the thought of death make my sick life better?
Outside the window, the meadow sunlit
Reminds me of joy; down my back, shoots a shiver.

There once was a time I was so happy and free.
Yet now I’m the spider, dead and lonely.