tock tick

The diploma is handed back to the principal,

I walk backwards into my seat.

I celebrate my 17th birthday before I celebrate my 16th.

Tock, tick. Tock, tick.

My teacher hands me the grade before I've taken the test.

I am in the 8th grade.

I am given class vice president before the campaign.

I walk backwards,

and backwards,

and backwards,

until it is 5th grade and everyone was ignoring me;

until it is 4th grade and I was framed for everything because I am an easy target;

until it is 3rd grade and they stepped on my hands after pushing me onto the ground.

I move backwards until the first moment I showed weakness,

and I change it.

This poem is about: 


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