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Nails of the master’s reach...
No way out, no returning to innocence.
The bullied beat, the bullied beat...

Knife of the master’s heart we twist round -
Nails scrape for us... but it’s useless.
You are your own rose running, sweet one, smoker...
And they’re stale in their master’s keep.

Don’t need to keep the master beneath us...
In these vertical, breath-short windows, they are the beat-less...

And you stare straight through them.
Smash their hearts with sugar...

A life that keeps no secrets... far from the master’s weakness.
Catherine Alysha Aug 2024
At morning you wake,
the sun burning your eyes,
you wonder how much more it will take,
until you reach your demise,

you're already counting down the hours left in the day,
terrified for what's ahead,
planning how to get away,
from all the words they haven't yet said,

you start your slow walk to school,
with your earphones full blast,
levitating straight down the hall,
please can this day be the last,

it's hard not to think it's your own fault,
when you're the reciever of every stare,
and the target of every insult,
that plunges you further into despair,

you want to scream "what did I ever do to you?",
for them to treat you like **** on their shoe,
to have your spirit beaten black and blue,

how can people tell you to ignore it,
when everyday you take a hit,
you reported them but it was no use,
they practically just tied your noose,

so inside it you place your head,
and you do as they wished,
so now you're dead,
then they'll say how much you'll be missed
Jeremy Betts Jan 2024
"You're not a lot of fun to be around" she blurted
Not the first time I've heard it
I went
From being bullied to being A bully, was never meant to be permanent
You can probably guess what temperament brought more enjoyment?
So there's a solid argument to be had for it being a just verdict
But if you've never been in that predicament hold your judgmental hyperbolic rhetoric
Most folks seek out that kind of empowerment but keep it quiet, I'm just admitting it
Look, nobody's perfect but the crime has never fit my punishment
Pushed and shoved "getting back to the old me" to the back burner, against my better judgement
Cause I didn't bother with it any further, now a derelict social misfit
Then when it's my turn to take back the moment
My retort, a one and done statement;
Fck you, fck the planet and fck everyone on it
Easier to parrot that then to admit no one can stand me past the first minute
I don't know if it's the misplacement of hurt and anger, a cover for inadequate social alignment
Or a relentless deep seeded resentment for the general public
Not sure but it definitely feels organic
This old dog ain't capable of learning a new trick regardless of any enlightenment
Kinda sad isn't it?

©2024
Nigdaw Aug 2021
we hid here
among the words we write
expressing ourselves
anonymously
using synonyms
similes adjectives
verbs nouns
to voice our fragility
our vulnerability
and self-doubt
implanted by years
of subjugation
intimidation
manipulation
bullied
into self-loathing
self-harm
even suicidal thoughts
well here we are
come find us
I challenge you to a duel
your intellect
against mine
birdy Mar 2021
Messy hair and stained white shirts.
The laughing stock of this tiny stage.
Stare at your feet,
Velcro sketchers covered in sand.
birdy Mar 2021
Drown out the laughs with your own internal screams.
Now you wish for that undervalued state of oblivion.
To be bullied is to be numb. Having something that makes you happy to have it taken away from you. To live in Pennsylvania, to have my first boyfriend. Everything was great. It was perfect. Until one day I felt the burning in the back of my head as eyes stared at me. Rumors had spread that I was bisexual. They were true, but no one knew that. To be bullied nonstop. Remembering the excruciating pain in my back as I was slammed into lockers. Eventually having to leave before anything extreme happened. That was the toughest thing I ever did. Having to leave everything behind, my friends and family.
Real life experiences
Hiding behind a mask. A shadow to others, unnoticed by all. Some say that beauty lies beneath. Not in today's world. Judgmental eyes follow you like heat-seeking missiles. Their glare can burn you from the inside. As what seems like a million beady eyes staring, you are bound to make a mistake. As you wander aimlessly, hoping for this day to end, the world seems to turn slower, and slower. You feel as if time is against you, that it finds joy in your sorrow. One slip and you are called clumsy. One tear and you are called a crybaby. One wrong answer and you are called stupid. One word and you can be forever laughed at. So if you hold your tongue, remain quiet, never show emotion, and hide in the shadows, you can protect yourself.
This is how I first viewed middle school. All the 7th and 8th graders would make you feel like an ant amongst giants. They thought they knew everything.
Norman Crane Sep 2020
Mud bath
Doc Martens
                        Back of head
Off the beaten path
                        Still beaten
But at least not dead
*******, they said
Don't understand what I did
But was
Drowning in the ground
One day they'll come around
To me

Doc Martens
                        Back of head
Off the beaten path
                        Still,
                        Beate­n
Dead.
Inspired by several news stories about bullying. What struck me was the tragedy of the bullied person coming back, again and again, to the bullies, probably craving attention, perhaps hoping for eventual acceptance, and how that same need (to return, to be accepted) not only intensified the bullying but justified that intensity ("What did he expect? He kept coming back for more!") In the extreme case, the intensification resulted in death. The death itself was seemingly blamed in part on the victim ("Well, he didn't object to us doing X, so naturally we tried X+1. I guess it's sad that X+1 killed him, but all he had to do was [...] and he didn't, so, you know: he didn't save himself.") One of the acts of bullying that struck me was walking on the victim's body, especially across puddles, gravel and mud. I was also surprised by how poorly the bullies were able to explain why they chose their particular victims. Their explanations amounted to: (1) he existed, (2) he existed around us, (3) he kept existing around us despite what we were doing, and (4) he was weird.
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