I look upon the moving crowd

Slowly sighing, looking down

Hurting, fallen, angry, shy

Now I cannot just seem to fly


I hear the Rumors in the halls

Now I get unwanted calls

Glares like ice, they hurt my soul

With hands that slice and Words so cold


Slipping , falling, crying, sighing

Oh my God, am I dying?

Hurting from this pain inside

This is something I try to hide


I guess I cannot get away

From these things that People Say

Even if it is not true

There is not more that I can do

This poem is about: 
My community


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