Sunday Nerves


Every Sunday

she worries what the week will bear,

scared and nervous,

not wanting to go back there. 

Watching quietly as the teachers let it happen,

no one will say a word, 

everyone is picking on the weird kid again,

leaving her out because she is not one of them. 

Even the teachers single her out,

and watch her,

knowing she feels so in doubt.

They do not know what to say,

so they say nothing at all. 

No one will pick her up when she falls. 

Could anyone be her friend?

No one seems to understand.  


The boy with glasses and overalls

walks with his head down throughout the halls,

someone trips him and his books go flying,

he makes it to the bathroom before he starts crying. 

Everyone laughs, they think it was funny.

He feels so alone,

cannot stand this place,

never do we see him with a smile on his face. 

The boy that tripped him gets away with it all,

believing it was okay to be so cruel. 

A teacher or two may give a glare,

maybe a scold,

that will not change a thing at all.

Who would have known that the world was so cold? 


The children sit at home on Sunday night,

wishing someday they could buck up and fight.

Scared and alone,

not a friend in the world,

going to bed wanting to hurl.

Tomorrow is Monday,

back to school,

will not anyone protect them?

This world is so cruel. 



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