I stroll through the halls,
surrounded by boring beige walls.
Students pass by
and don't even wonder why
I'm so down,
or why my smile has turned into a frown.
But it's not like they care.
All they do is stare
in my direction.
I shield myself for dear protection.
They know I'm different.
It's almost like they can feel it.
She's not one of us, they say,
We have to make her suffer and pay.
They shout words at me left and right,
trying to scare me and cause fright.
My eyes water until I can no longer see
the pain that is being lashed at me.
I run into the bathroom and lock myself in a stall.
They once saw me rise; now they see me fall.
I cry into my blotchy hands until I can take no more.
I scream and shout, and kick the door.
The lock breaks from the impact of my shoe.
The girl that walks in doesn't have a clue
that I'm behind this bathroom door,
crying because I can't take anymore.
My whimpers and cries
no longer hide my disguise.
I am weak.
A loser, so to speak.
YOU ARE READING
True Colors
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry I decided to do, the first poem being called Caged. I'm not sure what kind of poems they will be or what they'll consist of, but I'm sure they will express my true colors, colors I have kept hidden for a long time.
