A Simple Bystander

High school, a melting pot for social cliques.

The lunchroom is in a simple layout.

Jocks on the left, nerds in the middle, and everyone else dispersed in the nearest seat.

But one table stands empty except for one occupied chair.

There sits a girl who is a misfit by all means.

She lacks the social notoriety to even rank on the social scale.

I watch as she sits there alone.

She is, to me, a funny, kind, and loving person.

When we are alone, she is a company worth keeping.

But, when I am around others, she is dirt beneath my feet.

The other girls mock her for who she is.

She is mocked for her raggedy clothes.

She is mocked for her thin and slick hair, and skeletal frame.

She is mocked for just breathing the same air as the queen bee.

The other girls make catty remarks

"Look at her hand-me-down shoes."

"She has a face only a mother could love, if even."

I just chuckle at these comments,

But inside my mind I am screaming in frustration.

"Leave her alone! You don't know her!"

And my words do not speak lies.

They do not know her life, the life that she tells to me... with trust.

They don't know about her father dying in a car accident

About her mother losing her mind, her money, and her hope.

About the several "daddies" that have come around.

Including the one that held a gun to the girl's head

Or the one who beat her and touched her late at night

While her mother turned her head the other way

They don't see the cuts on her wrist.

They don't see the oxycontin in her drawers.

They don't know her or understand.

But I am the one truly to blame.

Because I choose to create a facade against her.

One where she is not worthy of my presence.

My heart sinks to see her ridiculed mercilessly.

As I just stand there on the sidelines.

But I stay quiet in hopes that someone else will intervene.

For I am just a part of a moving crowd.

Just a simple bystander.


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