"Here comes that little fatty again! " I heard the guy sitting next to me shout,
"How many minutes you think he'll keep jogging, before he cramps up and passes out?"
As his friends laughed at his insensitive remark, I kept the book I was reading aside,
The whistling and hooting grew even louder, and the comments became harsh and snide.
And then I saw him out in the distance, the sound of his heavy feet stomping came close,
He wore a sweatshirt with more sweat than shirt, as beads of sweat dripped from his nose.
The kid must have been fourteen at most, but I could see why he suffered like that,
He struggled to breathe as he tried to keep jogging, weighed down by kilograms of fat.
And every time he stopped to regain his breath, the taunts would only grow more crude,
But he wouldn't give up as he jogged even harder, ignoring the temptation to be equally rude.
This happened every day for 2 whole weeks, but he still chose to take the same road,
Inspite of knowing what lay in store for him, a barrage of their attempts to goad.
It was on that day I saw for the very first time, the kid's eyes swelling up with tears,
But that didn't slow down the merciless jokes, it only convinced them to switch into top gear.
"Give him a break you spineless idiots!" I shouted, and for a moment the laughter went quiet,
"Well if you cant laugh with us don't tell us what to do, tell that little fatso to go on a diet!"
Those last words filled my head up with rage, how could a kid endure something so mean?
I sat back down as I turned to console him, but the kid was nowhere to be seen.
The next day was no different from ones before, the whistling and hooting had again started,
I could see the dark circles under his eyes, seriously was this kid retarded?
But this time was different as he didn't rush past, he ambled to where I was sitting,
He quietly pulled out a letter from his jacket, from his eyes I could tell he was quitting.
He bowed his head and quietly walked away, his overall behavior in a sense was a riddle,
I could see that the letter was properly sealed, with "open tomorrow" scribbled in the middle.
The next day I sat for the same sequence to unfold, for the kid to be incessantly hexed,
But the whole day flew past the kid didn't turn up, leaving all of us utterly perplexed.
Then I remembered that letter in my pocket, so I reached for it and tore off the seal,
To finally read what the kid had to say, about repeatedly facing this ordeal.
"Stranger thank you for for what you did yesterday, I never thought someone would take my side,
I can't thank you enough for fighting for me, when I had just about no where to hide.
I know you're angry I didn't do anything myself, but even If I wanted I couldn't end the dispute,
My silence is not my choice but it's rather enforced, I can't say anything I want cause I'm mute.
For as long as I know I've been the butt of all jokes, everyone seems to find my size amusing,
I've been mocked and bullied, humiliated to pieces, there has never been an end to all this abusing
But I waited and waited for someone to be my voice, to tell the world what I couldn't on my own,
For someone to say it was ok to be myself, to tell me that I wasn't all alone.
The day your voice decided to to do what I couldn't, the times were changing I reckoned.
But when they laughed at you for fighting for me, I saw my hopes shot down in a second.
None of them knew that I cannot speak, they're just a few of a thousands I've faced,
But stranger I feel I can take it no more, all this pain of being bitterly disgraced.
Daddy once said that whatever you don't get in this life, God gives it to you when you die,
I just wanted to keep searching for my chance to speak, but now it seems it won't hurt to try.
I'm just glad that I was able to see one soul, who atleast tried to stop me from crying,
I promise that if and when I meet God tonight, I'll ask him to bless you for trying."
I could feel the cold sweat trickle down my spine, as all my thoughts were wiped out in a flash,
I'd taken for granted that it was all smooth sailing, and this just bought it down in a crash
Of all the times I assumed he kept quiet for a reason, I never realized there was stress under his grace,
That only increased with every insult he heard, and which finally bubbled beyond his surface.
And now that I couldn't speak I could sense how he felt, all those times emotions messed with his head,
I kept staring outside expecting him to come jogging, refusing the reality that now he was dead.
I picked up the letter and walked to his tormentors, and I asked them to carefully read it,
As their eyes started reading I said out loud, "God help you, cause you're going to need it."
